Ron Winkler
Path 22
translated by Jake D. Schneider
The medium is embarrassed. The mosquitos regard
me as pleasant. In the morning of today gone by,
I danced in the boundless poppy blossom. Went blond.
I nearly wasn’t catchable. Nor were the mosquitos.
The builders have their own stethoscopes, for even the proximity
effect is spooky. Did their paths cross us? I can’t be sure,
but while today’s snow landed only in a 3.14 meter radius, it fell
straight across the city. Which perhaps is just a commercial district
with ample residential space. I’m better off for it; my resting heart rate
is a-b-b-a. And all under the misconstrued sun, no less.
