I smoke
but that is bad for my health.
But I love
and that is bad for my heart.
And love makes me smoke,
and smoke helps me to think
and make circles in the air.

I breathe,
an easy thing.
And breath makes a person
hoard life
and a yellowed-eyed
Beast on the savannah
Swell its lungs.

I speak,
but that gets me into trouble.
But without speech
I could not get out of it.
A catch 22.

My tongue and my lips
have things to say.
My mind and my heart
have dreams to weave,
upon the heart.

I walk
but that gets me places,
and places bring things,
Eyes, hate, traffic, murder.
Rarely love.
Rarely love.

And I could write forever,
Carve a long path around flowers and thorns,
A long adventure,
Invent hands
That brush softly on the rosebushes
As I walk in direction to a dream
…Or a house,
            …Or a love,
                                      …Or a destiny.

--C.V. NÓR--


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