There were tears that day
despite the festive gathering.

We cheered at first,
wanted to be

he called me “the black kid”
his hands big like a cradle
he rocked my world with
but don’t ask

Cutting the mountain,
Constructing the road;
Enjoying the artificial rain,
Delighted over

this static treatment of hyper light
–>t h r us t : all mediums —
theater, cinema,

In the dark crimson cellar I crawl.
A fistful of miseries. Knees crammed into
jawbone.