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Adjust to it...

When your mind starts to go 

I’m taking you to Africa and setting you outside my mud house

On a reed mat in the dirt and let people play invisible mind ping pong with you all day

 You listen to the water drops in the sink in a town with no potable water

And drink heat treated milk with dry biscuits

Having Zwieback dreams of your childhood 

Sitting nest to the the melamine yellow table with black geometric dot patters

Feeling the holes in the vinyl of your chair on the backs of your naked legs

 Watching Pete the Parakeet pulling strands out of your mothers hair to make a nest for his mate that he never finds

In your minds basement level small grey spiders by the windows waiting for you to feed her flies

And watch the web dance and tingle her to life

Thru the windows in the basement The Masai men hop and leave deep guttural notes as their beads bounce 

Off their dark glistening chests and the honey and red earth part as rivulets of sweat

Run down their bodies and leave long dark lines in the ashes to drip on the gourd

Like the drops in the sink that you never hear but are always there dropping

 Waiting listening for you to answer them back

The smell of bat urine descends from the nets above your head and my nose lays next to your ear smelling the damp wax and bat scent from the nights before

You lay spent beneath the scent cold beneath the damp morning sheets as

 The baboon stares hole at the sides of your head looking for the microwave beams that the government has been sending

To tell you of the red spitting cobra that fans its hood waiting at your office door 

The servants run and shriek looking for a way to make it go.

Adjust to it…..