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| Dickicht - Thicket 20 x 20 cm gouache/ink/spray paint on paper |
BINIARAIX
It is
beautiful here in this
unpronounceable
place. Have you
ever wanted
to make love to a landscape?
Smoke rising
from the orchards
as shapely and
transparent as a negligee
made of sheerest
muslin, untouchable,
covering it
all but just barely. I want to get hold
of the sunlight
that drips off the palm trees here
and smear
it all over your body. How would
you
respond? Have me arrested?
Involve me
in a fight with your boyfriend? I’ll tell
you my name
first, then give you some biographical details….
(Later, in
the village tavern) hey, hombre,
I ask the guy
sitting next to me at the bar
how do you get
that smell around here that is
so evocative
of lemon peel all wrapped up in itself, cloves, cinna-
mon, olive
oil, a dab of honey rubbed deeply
into the succulent
flesh of an organic
free-range
chicken stuffed with garlic toes
roasting in
its own juices?
Usually it comes
evenings when the mountain’s
dissolved in
shadows, and the crickets swell and roar
and the
dogs are barking at other dogs barking
and the
cock lies down with the hen.
Can I live
here forever, I beg, totally losing it,
can I die here
on this beer-stained, saw-dusty spot?
Fortunately
he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying.
