Читать книгу They Don't Kill You Because They're Hungry, They Kill You Because They're Full - Mark Bibbins - Страница 15

Confidence

When a woman comes into the store,

points at me and says to her child,

Tell the man what you want, I turn around

to see where the man is.

Maybe I will visit him someday

in the Home for the Wildly Inarticulate,

for the Destroyed, for the Actual Man

Standing Where I Cannot Reach Him.

Don’t expect I’ve seen the center

of anything, though I have been

privy to enough insane exchanges

to do with hygiene. Henceforth I ban you,

letter-shaped body parts, from

my purview: our last chat left

the taste of buckshot in my mouth.

It’s early again, and late, when the birds

assume a tone neither mocking

nor judgmental, but something about

their exuberance is oppressive

enough to eat holes in the roof.

I just make the occasional collage

that falls apart when it rains,

wield my plaid umbrella like a sword,

and charge, exhausted, into the storm.