by Samuel De Lemos

I wear lots of clothes,
I try to hide my nakedness—
I sleep with a warm flannel shirt.

I’m not cold anymore.
I run around in cities unsure
of where and who I am?

But, I’m familiar with the streetlights,
the vehicles, the comfort of plush
pillows and quiet talk.

I see the cloudy sky
and the concrete pavement below,
I hear the tic-toc of leather shoes, of
people going to-and-fro.

I clean the facade of a brick castle,
but can’t understand the complexity
of a menial ladder—
to reach the high places
so far above.

I’m overrun by the beauty
behind the pane-glass window,
the view of mountains pristine—
are visions of this world
captured subconsciously.

I wake myself up and reach for your
body, to feel if you’re there,
only emptiness…
only my sluggish thoughts—
and the desire to fall back asleep,
to land at that selfsame spot.