He was a vicious cannibal with
A heart of stunning silver.
Together we sat in an unfurnished room
On the fifteenth floor of a dilapidated
The sky – orange and ripe.
I smoked unfiltered Virginia Slims cut in half
And he chewed apple-flavored
Tobacco while downing shots of
Blue-tinted whiskey. I washed my feet
In a tub filled with seltzer water.
There was a cryptic cadence to
His voice for he spoke in three-four time.
During our discourse I was overcome
With an irresistible urge to get up and dance.
I was in agony for want of putting on
A three piece tuxedo and
Performing a stunning waltz that would
Make knees buckle to watch.
The cannibal chewed and
Continued to etch on his white drawing pad
With chalcedony black chunks of charcoal,
The color of his eyes. He whispered to himself,
“The mountains are the spine of the colossus.”
The sun began to set
I became anxious
You can’t stay here for much longer, said the
Cannibal in his sing-song voice.
You make no sense, I said.
The grains of sand spill from your mouth
out with every syllable you utter and soon you’ll
Have run out. Tsk tsk.
Tears fell from the cannibals eyes,
but before they landed
on the ground they had
turned to snow.
– Ly Chheng
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