Daiku Satori |
white room sterile walls chrome steel egg shaped utensils chilly winter’s morn I sit in the waiting room, watch him puke -- security guard gets upset tries to push him off to the washroom and I empathize with this puking man ‘cause there are times when I want to puke all over the egg- white corridors and on their shiny waxed polished floors, but I am prideful and feel sorry -- this puking man sitting next to me in a garbage can from the ID unit, -- spilling his guts out with germs puke green uniforms rush by me in motioned waves I feel my abyss unsettled I feel nausea’s wave watch the puke green rush by hear the puke come out next to me and I want to be strong as the security guard cautiously approaches us two rush, rush rushing and hear hear hearing it rises and rises and I try to stop and catch it before it’ll spew burning sensation -- stomach on fire -- pain in chest/back/legs -- the vile taste I don’t want to feel an idiot I really want this moment to pass I feel the spring air awash over my spirit paint me egg-white walls the puking stops and the man gets up -- leaves -- heads to the washroom wrenching a- long the way and the white egg walls float as I visualize myself lying on tepid sand and near desert caves -- the serenade of the turquoise waves Gregg Rowe May 07, 2006 |