the tick-tock of a watch and a table,
Vivaldi’s Vedro con Mio Diletto,
and the violin that cries over
the tickling sensation of a musician fingers.
I am the snake and the evergreen garden,
the sacred kapok tree and the evening wind,
the gâteau ou chocolat over the plate,
and the infinity of number eight.
I scream for those who forget,
because I am a Buddha walking
through an abyss in to midnight.