Friday, October 25, 2019

The Soccer Games

My ambition is to disappear.
There's too much sun, too much grace.

If it wasn't for these dreams
In the middle of the day
Of who I want to fill this empty space
I wouldn't know anything at all.

The ball would move like an ant along the grass,
I'd never see those I'm supposed to notice,
Who wander my cranium like welcome ghosts
Offering their signature riffs.

It only matters if they're heroes
And their dreary residues are of the golden,
To be followed from afar,
The only way to be them,

Those who've taken a turn in the world,
Became a part of it that's worthy ...
Not these spreadsheets filled for no one,
These words that no one hears.

It's only me, there is no other side,
So small against everyone I've become.