Waking

I go to bed alone and wake alone,
I rub my eyes, stretch my neck,
Look at the floor, stare at the ceiling.
Should I get up or collapse again,
Pull the blanket over my head and busy my toes?

Every morning the same question, the same need
Ingrown like a fingernail,
So the past doesn’t drag after my heels
First thing in the morning like a worn–out skirt,
So the light doesn’t wound me
With its double barrel shotgun.

To get from under the covers is not everything.
I don’t rise just to stretch my legs.
I need a better reason to get up
Than to walk my hat, cook my lunch,
Splash my ego in a froth and steam of light comedy.

I’m tired of just lying here
Like forgotten piece of luggage.
Memories pinch me, futures gives me an itch
Like nettles all kinds of thoughts sting me
I must prepare myself to meet the day
Adjust a crease on my skirt, the expression of my face
Everything I’ve grown weary of.

I’m fed up with faking happiness,
Play–acting contentment
As if it was all just fine
As if things are beginning to go well
Now that I’ve played the role of my life
And won the big prize at the lottery.


I yearn for something I have no name for,
For something that would change my life
Turn it upside down
Make it leave the rails on which I travel
Making punctual stops.

I feel like gathering my rags
And making my getaway
Someplace where no one knows about me
Where I forget about myself
And the lover with the pale face
To do what I want,
What I damn well please.

I don’t need reasons ,excuses
To speed down a highway in a fast car
Not thinking about anything or anyone
While around me the heat staggers
And the climacteric sun trails me like a stray dog.