WalkingAround

    ItsohappensIamsickofbeingaman.

    AndithappensthatIwalkintotailorshopsandmovie

    houses

    driedup,roof,likeaswanmadeoffelt

    steeringmywayinawaterofwombsandashes.

    Thesmellofbarbershopsmakesmebreakintohoarse

    sobs.

    TheonlythingIwantistoliestilllikestonesorwool.

    TheonlythingIwantistoseenomorestores,nogardens,

    noods,acles,ors.

    ItsohappensthatIamsiyfeetandmynails

    andmyhairandmyshadow.

    ItsohappensIamsickofbeingaman.

    Stillitwouldbemarvelous

    toterrifyalawclerkwithacutlily,

    orkillanunwithablowontheear.

    Itwouldbegreat

    toghthestreetswithagreenknife

    lettingoutyellsuntilIdiedofthecold.

    Idontwanttogoonbeingarootinthedark,

    insecure,stretchedout,shiveringwithsleep,

    goingondown,intothemoistgutsoftheearth,

    takinginandthinkiingeveryday.

    Idontwantsomuchmisery.

    Idontwanttogoonasarootandatomb,

    aloneuheground,awarehousewithcorpses,

    halffrozen,dyingofgrief.

    ThatswhyMonday,whenitseesmeing

    withmyvictface,blazesuplikegasoline,

    andithowlsonitswaylikeawoundedwheel,

    andleavestracksfullofwarmbloodleadingtowardthe

    night.

    Anditpushesmeiainers,intosomemoist

    houses,

    intohospitalswherethebonesflyoutthewindow,

    intoshoeshopsthatsmelllikevinegar,

    aaishideousascratheskin.

    Therearesulphur-coloredbirds,andhideousiines

    hangi