the walls became red
flushed away in my mind
like toilet paper,
and as i sat
next to the window,
holding in my eyes the upcoming yellow
carpet of morning
ready to unfold
it’s buildings, it’s cars and streets
like tentacles
reaching out for me
upon the billion-blooded floors
a few weeks went by.
i felt perishable, scraped,
with no money to pay my rent,
unable to get a copy of my college diploma
so i could finally get a decent job,
bowed & ready to shoot questions
to the world like arrows,
expecting nothing back
and
giving away the least
to stay alive
i held my forehead against
the windows for endless hours,
staring
at the flat asphalt painted
with yellow stripes,
at the high-end-neverending
buildings full of hamered glasses
like fish scales,
watching the US Transit cars
the Foot Locker stores getting closed
and opened, Citibank ads blinking
Federal Express people carying packages
across the streets.
everything seamed scattered
like the entrails of a cloven
stomach
and the shiny whiskey glass i held looked
like a bistoury.
This is America, i said finishing-up
my drink.

- This is acid, said a voice
from behind,
top quality.

This is America i told her.

- Acid ! she screamed.
Say it or else.

And I had to.
she was 19 years, just graduated, depressed and angry,
bearing her ass against
the bedroom’s window ledge
slipping down slowly.

It was the only time in 4 months
when we trully
agreed on something.