--nothing.
All right.
"The mystery of the seagulls".
Please love me while there's still days,
I'll never have that breakthrough.
Let's face it, I'll stay just like this, a little fish.
Now I'm in a dream here and there.
I'll keep making like a half personality,
not this little steady flame in a darkened field with the wheat
bunched up for baling.
No, I'll never be that sexy.
Never to seduce you, and always cry bitterly at advice columns.
I cry to think all those people are just as ugly as me,
and on the inside they're getting their big break
in front of gleaming, listening, shipyards.
I just love how lonely it is out in this ocean.
Can I tell you a story?
A story, the big fish jumped and grabbed the gull of today,
she swallowed.
She jumped again, but the gull of tomorrow stepped back.
She kept at it, and he was always just out of sync.
"This is not how it's supposed to go", fish said.
Anyway, what kind of tomorrow can you
have without today, just saying?
And then that same moment, millions of plastic bits
settle on your plate, on the table
in the middle of the ocean.
What?
The waving tablecloth, the waves, where is everyone?
You ate all your dinner companions,
and now open the book in front of you,
it says, the world gave itself to you,
but you didn't give you grasshopper back.
Also, this suffering, is it also a kind of gift?
After the rapture amid the lions and the lambs,
you'll see me and know that me being into you
was me being into the world.
Are you as into the world as the world is into you?
No, I'm not being weird.
What I'm saying is, there is a sustainable energy.
My great aunt, for example, the way
she bunched hay at the base of that little pear tree to safe
-proof it from drought.
She could barely walk, but it was the kind of thing
you could see from the moon.
And as I walked away from her house, I can't explain it,
the trees were screaming.
A finger pressed from the sky down
on the field, the whole of which was my sex.
And earlier in her room I felt like puking,
when she told me she saw only a big light in front of me,
but instead of the big light, I walked into big silence
and there you stood.
End of story.
Is this what you meant when you said we
could watch some porn together?
When the smoke cleared, I could see the field upskirt all
the way to the end of tomorrow.
We stood a little to the side of it, cicadas, next
to their old dried shell.
The sky there is a classic blue.
The campanile goes off in the Croatian Savannah morning,
and frankly, this tomorrow can take care of itself,
we'll know how to be old.
What I need us to be now is nudes, painted by no one.
Don't you see the museums are just giant strip clubs?
And the backyards the gallery, where you
can touch every single work.
There's no one here to tell us how to do this,
except for the millions of idols glimmering, fluttering,
turning.
I'm staying in this day because all my friends are still here.