responsible life and career planning

a seminar room

full of beautiful,
shiny,
people.

all achievers,
over- or under-.
in their mind successful,
no idea at what.

truly serious,
reserved,
assisted by their instructor
in analyzing,

their optimal path towards
the garden with money for grass,
beach houses for trees,
children for bugs,
and pension for sun.

don't go towards the light.

Imperfect, Dirty and Determined.
that's how Life is
that's how Sex is
that's how You should be.

______

© Dimitrios Kokkinos 2015

against gray

a’

I watch his slow, delicate, floating but determined moves.
wrapping the silver piece of paper.
moving the small pair of scissors along the scarlet ribbon.
cutting where years of experience tell him that it's long enough.
carefully finishing a bow around the package.

I glance into the deep gray of his eyes.
he doesn't stare back, just humbly accepts his fee.

- Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
- To you too, child. 

tulips have never looked as great.
too bad he cannot see them.
I bet he knows they are beautiful.

b’

in the subway, a man staring at me angrily.

his girlfriend saw my flowers
and now wants some of her own.
in his mind,
I am clearly giving
a bad example.

as he stares,
a small piece of me detaches from the rest,
my left middle finger,
and floats away
like the ash from the tip of a lit cigarette

I touch where the piece used to be.
nothing.
I get scared, but try to ignore it.

I notice,

right across me,

the disapproving stare of an old lady.

it’s not clear,

if my excitement makes too strong a contrast

to her mood,

or if I attack her sense of taste with my existence,

but another piece of me,

a part of my cheek,

comes off and floats away.

more and more stares surround me.

I panic and jump out of the train,
dash up the escalator,
and with every step and every stare,
more and more pieces fly off.

she sees me running towards her,
a barely fastened knitting of shards.

as I fall completely apart,
I manage to hand the flowers over to her arms.

she smiled,
I think.

______

© Dimitrios Kokkinos 2015

citizen of the World

go ahead.
take a boat or a horse or a train or a giant air-balloon
or just your own two feet, but go
meet them.

give them your bread and your wine and your last piece of chocolate.
try the bizarre poison they call food.
appreciate the shock on your tongue
and congratulate them for the originality of their cuisine.

shout with them,
against their unjust government,
at three in the morning,
for a cause they couldn't even translate to you.

clack your fingers like they do,
then dance their dances without fear.
no one dances perfectly,
but only the sad ones care.

sit with them in silence and pray to their gods,
that their child survives this fever.
and bring a doctor there with begs and threats and promises,
until it's all right.

hide their ears in your palms, wrap their shoulders with your scarf
and rub their nose so that it doesn't freeze.
drink their boiling hot tea next to their boiling hot sand,
even though, right now, you’d rather trade your kingdom for some ice-cream.

wear their hats and pants and rainbow-colored fabrics.
then take everything off,
leave it on the floor right beside them,
and help them undress.

push and squeeze and tightly hug them.
then leave them alone to feel their own space,
then hug them again
and let their smell drown your senses.

or don't.

but please, respect them.
they are People in all the ways that you are.

______

© Dimitrios Kokkinos 2015