lotus eaters

i.
the rain is sliding down the windows.
only god can hear me now, only the movement
of the water outside in the canal responds
to my continued silence. it has been three weeks.
i walk my days among would-be martyrs with nothing
to hoist up a cross for. i walk among the dead and the
living with equal alacrity, equal familiarity. this is not
my city, which makes it even more an extension of
who i am right now. the world moves slowly about
me, like a rippling tidepool, like a mime. there is
no sound. even in the darkness at night, though,
there is movement: slow, deliberate, smooth. someday
the world will pick up again, but for now it is encased
in jelly. even the gods and the devils feel the effects
of the times: we are the lotus eaters. we are, we are,
we are the lotus eaters. and love has a place, but it’s
a quiet, comfortable place. it’s in our minds as much
as in our hearts, and it’s a slow dance, subdued
yet somehow sacred nonetheless. there will be things
that happen after this, but there is no great rush.

ii.
and i’m hungry, and i should probably
eat something, but that would be too much
of a presumption. and i don’t need it, anyway.
i want to drop another two or three pounds, even though
i’m already a bit on the skinny side. i never could
say no to dropping weight. insubstantial:
hide in the woodwork: be left alone. not a bad way
to be. eating, on the other hand; too much work, not worth
the effort half the time. and i think i might have cancer,
every other week, and maybe that’s just the way i
am, the way i gauge my life by. a fatalist, or
something or other. and my brain might not work
very quickly, but it works just fine, thanks. and
there are holes, and i’m well aware of the fact. i’ve
fallen into one or two, you know. it’s not as if
it’s any secret. how many secrets can anyone hope
to hold? and i don’t think we’re all going to heaven,
but i doubt the devil will see us anytime soon, either.
i think i have cancer today, and it’s been an alright life
so far. i can’t really complain.