Inspired by a summer vacation, getting lost in large crowds, and what counts as a post-apocalyptic world.
I like trying to make mundane moments sacred in my poems, even if the point of its sacredness is that this moment is like many others. We get used to being immersed in life and life stops feeling special, or terrible. We forget the difference between day and night, joy and misery. This poem tries to acknowledge that contradiction, embraces being lost in it all.
Also, I have no idea if it was Tuesday when I wrote or experienced the moments in this work. I just thought it was a nice title :)
Men make monologues turning in the square,
someone screams: mango! mango! mango!
above the siren hymn of paramedics.
The day we arrived, the Three of us
Three days ago, Three men died.
I forgot. Or was it? Not just the homeless that desperately
Need to find their way, here.
From the emptied barrel of the gun comes stories,
mythologies, trees loosing their August leaves.
Crowds form round an ended play
Awaiting a secret fourth act-
The point of return always being passed
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