Hunger

This hunger, almost gentle,
lyrical and mildly intoxicating,
filling my senses in its
attempt to swallow
a greater fulfillment;

This hunger, festering inside
some deep cavern, never
exposed to the sun
of time, hidden as
darkness, absorbed
in its own destiny;

This hunger, pushing
images to the heart
that almost seem
crazy, rude and too
self-important to
be taken seriously-

Making life more real,
this hunger, with its
sparks and booms, perhaps
searching for a greater
life, a greater desire, what
less self-important and
more musical people
would call the consuming
quest for thirst.

A New Story

Softly she taps my shoulder and stands behind me, obstinate. I turn around without apologies, disdain or sympathy, and on seeing her red-nosed sadness-disguised-as-anger, I start giggling like a girl. She laughs, as if it was an infection, and for those few triumphant moments, both of us forget the crazy “I don’t need you” un-promises and ego-challenges that brought us to our knees, rolling in the dust, laughing. Exhausted, we find warmth in the once-sad coldness of our palms, look into the sky, and sigh.