The palm at the end of the mind, beyond the last thought, rises in the bronze distance. A gold feathered bird sings in the palm, without human meaning, without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason that makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.

Saturday, August 28, 2021

House Hunter International

They’d wanted the two-story two-bath
above the creperie in De Pijp,

though they’d been willing to reconsider

the budget for old-world charm
and sleek, modern finishes in Zagreb,

a quintessential hacienda in the hills

flanking Quito, or a lanai shading
the Russian district of Phnom Penh,

but what they’d really, really wanted

was Prague in a black & white movie
adaptation of a book about Prague

in the 70s. They’d even read it in college,

and they’d known even then they wanted
other people’s architecture and pathos.

They wanted other people’s transit

and squalor. They’d been prepping
for years in unincorporated Atlanta

when a job-call lit up their scopes.

They’d tracked it to this bang-on-budget
studio nestled above the ornamental

fruit stands and decorative geriatrics

occupying a piazza at the city-center
of this other life they’d wanted to wear

like a pelt. And we watched their wanting

from a blind we’d erected in our living room,
and we watched as they waded, timid at first,

into the liquid crystals of the television.

Then, more swiftly, their daggers clenched
between their teeth, they slipped beneath

its pixilated surface.

 --Jaswinder Bolina

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