"Genus"

I took a taxi home tonight and drafted this -- sedated -- with the French driver. Pierre, literally a rock, in my head I saw a frog, Bufo marinus. He passed time with banter about moderate politics to drive up my fare and I answered brokenly with directions because I maniacally asked to practice.

He told me complacency was the best of two grim choices. He told me, "C'est «oui»," because I spoke his language like a war criminal, and, per him, a revolution lived and died because I didn't propose to lead. Well, I did, but only in lines of verse.

My waxen mask shone white rays through alien eyes. Oh no, he'll see my amphibian skin. He told me his aunt was a shaman who ate children's fingers and I laughed because I didn't know if this was real. Authenticity, what a cliche question.

Did my drawl sound too ostentatious? We always said there was no limit because politics without math is Euclidean and Haïti's form had a different Geometry that read to their people. He left because the buildings had burned around him when the Fascist swarmed the villages surrounding his...

This had been a great Darwinian voyage from one side of the city to the other, from one country to another. He told me the social contract was for colonists and I agreed. I am the first of my name and delusions are frequently fantasized to obscure the guilt.

I couldn't write the Self because my Center is always External, but I tried anyway and made up a story about my asphalt captain and, what he called, his struggle with atmospheric suicide. They would catch him and place him in a terrarium, and, unlike me, correctly label him a toad.

--
07/03/2016
Hyacinthe d.l. Sinthomée
Have you ever seen a cat
Become a crow

To read more of Hyacinthe's poetry, follow the links:

• "The Ants In Hera's Kitchen" https://steemit.com/poetry/@hyacinthesin/the-ants-in-hera-s-kitchen-poem
• "In Ipso Vita Erat, Vita Erat Lux Hominum" https://steemit.com/poetry/@hyacinthesin/in-ipso-vita-erat-vita-erat-lux-hominum