Casa Robino

IN BAGHDAD DREAMING OF CAIROIN CAIRO DREAMING OF BAGHDADbut the days stuck together like confetti, stained my clothes. Couldn't get the sweat out from serbia while in the mist of switzerland. The villages took me in whole like the bellies of the large hags from romania, leering toothless mouthes. Couldn't make head or tail out of anything. Confused time. Woke up telling myself, it's august, it's august, she'll be here soon. Instead it was june 13th. cursed the last morning stars. but when you curse, you drown out your blessings. true.Dreams entwined themselves with my socks. you have not changed these socks since vienna. you have crossed too many countries and had too many conversations to pick them apart anymore. the socks were stinky. my socks are perpetually stinky. moose's socks would smell better than these. do moose wear socks in the winter?anyway, it is summer. the nights are kind to you, you can sit outside in vienna and revel in the warm night, read Rumi, eat chocolate you find in the street, love thy madness, thy will be done, write to the ends of the earth.Start walking towards Shams. Your legs will get heavyand tired. Then comes a momentof feelings the wings you've grown,lifting-RumiIt was that one night when nothing really seemed to go, despite the sweet girl who picked me up and took me salzburg. Exhausted and time was drilling ticks into my head. I could think of nothing more than days and weeks.Cleaning teeth on a treestump, all of a sudden all kinds of awfully desperate feelings rushing through, something attacked my toes. Then my ankles. Then legs. Up to the groin. There they stopped. Dealt subtle blows to them. Jumping up and down.Red ants. Little bits of fire scorching the skin.The blues have a strange sense of humour.Run around for hours, screaming, clawing them off my skin, the whole army of them. They cling on for dear life. Looking at their nest right beside my once potential sleeping position. You are blessed, you are blessed, you are blessed. Move away. Read the the last weeks amongst my stories. Everything is still true. Hold on, you gotta on, o' you burn your mansion to the ground..Wake up with a red ant standing over me, gigantic, leering.The blues are still here. Swat them take a ride out to Munich after hours of waiting. They will follow you to the ends of earth.I laugh with all my belly when I get into these swiss lands. Never imagined I would end up here..the blues laugh too, dragging the heart behind, ho, covered in fireflies and a handful of francs from a turkish man, still, everything continues to be unexpected.More and more awake, getting up at night,spinning and falling in love for Shams.