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Laura, Toucan Editrice

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Neurotransmitters, b. alexander

Why stop there? Everything actually
does not matter.

Two neurons meet in a synaptic gap. One babbles
endlessly of a beautiful atom, the other responds
by firing back
“Shut it, deluded brother”.

I recall two mismatched socks
intertwined under your desk. I wished
to tell you, to marvel together at inanimate love,
but instead of where they should stay clasped
they would drift away —

O delusion! What delight you
take in a little “je ne sais pas”
sprinkled over that art-child that
calls himself an orphan only to find himself

the centre of beauty later. Imagine
there was once a certain young Mr. Z there,
now stands a self-proclaimed rogue-knight templar.
“Fountain overflowing!” A drought in Seattle
is reported on the Phoenix ten o'clock news.

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