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…..
