dare i speak of peace?

the ideas float in my head,

float in my fever

while my nose streams.

the only thing soothing is jazz.

the only thing soothing

is the thought

of having no emotional attachments.

i croak as if i were old
as if my vocal cords were strung out on a windy winters day.

i'd like to lie back in a bright room,

buzzing with conversation,

smelling of cigarettes and wine.

or a wide, open, grassy field.

the wind rustling in waves.

the sky is blue, the friendly clouds set afloat.

the birds.

the insects.

the wind in the trees, in the grass

agaisnt the distant hills.

unfurling gently on my skin.

unfurling gently on my skin.

N.M.