He opens cans of soda pop.
Lilliputian metal strain, creak and groan,
and Pffffish-POP!
Then more metal ripping and another snap.
He enjoys metal tab under his
fingernail-smooth on the visible surface,
and tiny gnarled, sharp claws on the hidden side.
It makes him feel
–not necessarily alive, but it makes him feel.
182 days since he last drank water.
A torrent of bubbles crowd and shove up his nose
though his nostrils into his mouth
and up his nasopharynx.
His eyes water, but the liquid does not
run down his face like sad tears.
He grinds them into the corners of his eyelids
before they mix with fine dust and muddy his cheeks.
The rough skin on his fists scratch raw
the delicate tissue around his eyes.
No water for 182 days.
He woke into this fever dream 182 days ago.
No alarm. No rooster crow. No cacophony of dawn song.
Only indecipherable elevator muzak that alone he can hear.
He stands in the line at Starbucks
waiting to request an iced chai latte from the cute barista
A pop jazz smoothie cover of California Uber Alles
slurps into his brain.
Alone he sings the lyrics.
182 days--am I starting to forget what it tastes like? No.
He has had insect eyeballs transplanted into his face.
He lives in the brush strokes of Tonight at Noon,
sees in a different light spectrum,
and notices things only important to dragonflies, ants and beetles.
He glides around melted rock faces
and howling pseudanthiams where
anthropomorphised leaves cradle florets
humanized into cheeks.
182 days without drops and torrents and oceans.
He lives in the stench of burnt toast and burning brake and clutch.
The bread and asbestos crumbs leave a trail
for Hansel and Gretel to find him by moonlight.
Indelible, inedible IYKYK trail
for these sibling heroes to follow
to carefully cross the Pont des Arts,
bridge weighed down and unbalanced.
To find him and patiently
relieve him of the burden of
pebble offerings wrapped in calico fabric and wishes
Secured with hastily knotted yarn to his handrails.
To toss them into the moon reflected in the Seine
to sink, to be rinsed and to absorb cool water.
