My daily pepper grain,
I can’t remember when I paid the rent
the last time
or the day I had a fight with mom, my chief or
with my downtown friend
Because it’s been nine months
since I can’t sleep.
In my head
things change the order they succeeded.
I don’t know when you said for the first time
that you want me to be the way I was
fallen with the beautiful spectacled
who left far Away
in Asia Minor.
Or
when you started to insinuate that
I should give up hiding
between a mediocre’s legs
that keep telling me:
“I’ve fallen for your teeth!”
or
“Caesar, don’t you think your nails are too beautiful
for a boy?”
I miss everything
Us
searching names for the rabbits that we invent on paper.
Me
kissing your nose and telling you:
it’s the most beautiful
since Audrey Hepburn.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Sanitarium
It smells as if they cut the grass
and left it near our house.
It’s been cut and left alone
to die
and it looks brightly at us.
I have just finished to cut
my nails and that’s why
they probably let me write.
I can see you feeding your babies
in the morning
with carrot juice.
Among us everyone is boring:
one and a half year psychosis,
three month mania.
We feel that someone’s following us
and spots appear on our legs
but we can’t see them.
We don’t want to behave
as you tell
because you let us die
with no glass of water
and you can only advise:
Listen peacefully
the whales’ twittering!
and left it near our house.
It’s been cut and left alone
to die
and it looks brightly at us.
I have just finished to cut
my nails and that’s why
they probably let me write.
I can see you feeding your babies
in the morning
with carrot juice.
Among us everyone is boring:
one and a half year psychosis,
three month mania.
We feel that someone’s following us
and spots appear on our legs
but we can’t see them.
We don’t want to behave
as you tell
because you let us die
with no glass of water
and you can only advise:
Listen peacefully
the whales’ twittering!
You May Prick Me
Friday afternoon
“Continental Medic, good afternoon.”
“Hello! My name is Caesar Phillip. I want to program for an urography.”
“Just a moment. You have to tell me your name and your contacts. All right! You may come Monday morning at 9 o’clock. Be careful… you are not allowed to eat.”
“May I drink water?”
“There’s no problem if you drink water, it has nothing to deal with.”
“Thank you very much. I just want to ask you how much it is going to cost.”
“Seventy Euros”.
“And I don’t have any reduction?”
“Well, it depends. Do you have a sending from your doctor?”
“Yes I have one, from Mr Manescu from Fundeni hospital.”
“And did he write for you on a pink note for the Insurance Company?”
“No, he wrote on the back of an older analysis report.”
“Then the Insurance Company won’t make any reduction for you. I’m sorry.”
“OK. We’ll do it like that, for lots of money.”
Monday morning
There are people that at this our go to work, decide the Balkan geopolitics, go to recover after scoring the victory goal or compose symphonies. I have to go near the Fundeni hospital to make an injection and afterwards a radiography.
In order to get familiar with the hospital atmosphere, I have to go to Fundeni on the sad road of 253 bus. I get hit by elbows of women that make the sign of the cross at every church on the road.
Other old man have serious fights moving rapidly their hands: we had one penalty and a half! And what if he really whistled it for you, what would you say right now?!
After three stations some drunk workers started to scuffle at the back door. They didn’t have a place to stay on the steps. I am lucky enough to have to go five stations with this bus.
I enter as a brave man at Continental Medic. At the ground floor there are some abstract paintings that color the life of people pricked by blue and white needles. I go to the reception to announce my apparition.
“Good morning! I am programmed for an urography at nine o’clock.”
“Good evening. I will have to ask you to give me your ID card.”
The receptionist that took charge of me came here a few hours before and her work is covered in telephone ringing. When she talks to somebody, all the time she has something.
She gets a large envelope where she’s going to put the films from my radiography and she also wants to put my ID in there.
“Look, I will have to put it in here.”
“Are you going to send it to me by post?”
I couldn’t have believed but she knitted her brows even more.
“What did you say?!”
“I was joking.”
The other receptionists start to giggle. It’s a rare occasion for them having to deal with a chatty boy.
“I will have to ask you to wait here until we call for you.”
“And what’s the procedure? I heard that he’s going to inject me something crafty and afterwards a radiography.Is that right?”
“He will have to inject you a contrast solution based on iodine. Afterwards you can wait here for your result.”
“There you are! …to see what I won.”
The whole business runs suspiciously well. I’m calm, I am in the mood for joking with the receptionists. I forgot that for more than a half a year I couldn’t find a medic who knows what I suffer from. I start to be nervous when I realize what dignity the assistant that will look after me has:
“Aunt Mary, come here quickly! Doc is calling for you!”
I enter scared and I wait for aunt Mary. I look at the big machine they will use to make my radiography. She comes and pushes a button. The big machine starts to spin.
“Oh, my God! Are you going to put me in it?”
“I’m not going to put you in it. I’ll just put you here, on the table. Please come and lie here. There you go, you can use this staircase and sit here peacefully.”
“I’m used to injections, as I have been to doctors for half a year.”
“Then we’ll be done quickly. But you rather have no veins. I’m going to beat you a little bit to catch one. If you’re scared, even your blood won’t run.”
My hand starts to smell like cold spirit. There’s a single bulb that lights my eyes and I try to think of something nice. I have no time. The needle pricked me and I started to hiss.
“Stay calm. Why are you so contracted? Does it hurt?”
“It’s not a real pleasure…”
“There’s no reason to hurt you.”
“But it hurts!”
“Ah! Now it’s clear! Your vein is burst! I told you to stay here peacefully. Why do you tremble like that?”
“I’m cold!”
“Give me your left hand so I can try there too. Hold this compress with your elbow. Hold tight and leave gently the left hand on your belly. Please be peaceful from now on.”
“I feel no pain.”
“Well, I think you’re just saying that, because you don’t want to be hurt any more.”
“Are you ready?”
“Almost. Does it hurt?”
“Yes, it hurts.”
“What do you mean?! Woe me!! It’s gone too! You, boy, what happened to your veins, they burst so easily…”
“I don’t know.”
“And why do you tremble like that?”
“I’m cold.”
“It’s the fear-cold that makes you tremble.”
Doc comes in.
“Aunt Mary, it’s so cold in here. Turn on these heaters. What happened to him?”
“He has two burst veins. I don’t know what happened to him.”
“And why are you trembling like that?”
“I’m cold!”
“Which is your jacket?”
“That blouse is mine.”
“Cover yourself with it and try to put yourself together. Do you have a problem with the circulatory system? Your veins burst so easily. Did happen before?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made an injection for years.”
“The fear makes him tremble, doc! Can’t you see how contracted he is?!”
“Leave him alone now, he has spasms and his vein will burst again. Go and get Dana.”
Aunt Mary leaves for a moment and doc is in the mood for consulting me. It is the seventh time I tell the story of my life written in analyses, but now my cheek is stuck on an aluminum table and I talk as if my life is over, covered with a blouse, trembling from fear-cold.
Ms Dana enters, looks at me for a while and starts to play the tyrant.
“Oh! What a scary young man we have here! Why do you tremble like that? Are you all right?”
“Generally I’m OK, but I’m cold. This table is very cold.”
“Mattresses! Mattresses we’ll bring here to put on the table.”
“Pneumatic” I say.
“Pneumatic for Mr. Patient. Hold your fist!”
“It would be better if you waited a little longer for me to put myself together because this way my vein will burst again.”
“I won’t stay any longer, hold your fist!”
“OK, ma’am, we hold the fist.”
I hold my fist.
“Needle. There you go. That’s it. Did you see he’s all right? Take him and make the radiography. That’s the way you men are…”
She comes close to me and I ask her whispering:
“Cowardly?”
Aunt Mary hears me.
“That’s it. Say it louder because you’re right!”
I’m done with my urography. Now I wait outside. I am the pride of the hall, because I’m the only one that didn’t take out his needle. I pretend I don’t notice a man that keeps staring at me. Even he is not in the mood for my needle any more. A medic came with a radiography and started to explain him something. He even used the word “nasty”.”
They call for me to get my result.
“How is it? What have you written?”
“You can watch it for yourself. It’s in the envelope.”
“Ah. So it is OK.”
“Yes.”
“But my perineum hurts!”
“I don’t have the perineum. You should consult a surgeon.”
“I’ll wait for the other analyses, the ones that I made in the small lid, then I’ll go to Mr Manescu to see what he says.”
Monday night
My friend Adriana is always nice and asks all the time what I did at doctors.
“How was it today?”
“The urography was well too. Good results. Dead patient.”
“Get out. What do you mean?”
“Well… I have to wait for other three results.”
“Man, somebody tried white magic on you.”
“Somebody else also advised me to consult a witch.”
“If you don’t have a bad result, you go to grannies. Somebody did this to you on the Internet!”
“Mrs. also asked if I put a spell on her as her ovaries hurt since we broke up.”
“It’s a right moment to laugh but it sounds like… ovary curse. “Tell to granny, what brings you here?” “Well… he cursed my ovaries!””
“So, what part of me did they curse?”
And the discussions went on and on, but me and Adriana know each other for twelve years. She’s the only one who knows the rest.
“Continental Medic, good afternoon.”
“Hello! My name is Caesar Phillip. I want to program for an urography.”
“Just a moment. You have to tell me your name and your contacts. All right! You may come Monday morning at 9 o’clock. Be careful… you are not allowed to eat.”
“May I drink water?”
“There’s no problem if you drink water, it has nothing to deal with.”
“Thank you very much. I just want to ask you how much it is going to cost.”
“Seventy Euros”.
“And I don’t have any reduction?”
“Well, it depends. Do you have a sending from your doctor?”
“Yes I have one, from Mr Manescu from Fundeni hospital.”
“And did he write for you on a pink note for the Insurance Company?”
“No, he wrote on the back of an older analysis report.”
“Then the Insurance Company won’t make any reduction for you. I’m sorry.”
“OK. We’ll do it like that, for lots of money.”
Monday morning
There are people that at this our go to work, decide the Balkan geopolitics, go to recover after scoring the victory goal or compose symphonies. I have to go near the Fundeni hospital to make an injection and afterwards a radiography.
In order to get familiar with the hospital atmosphere, I have to go to Fundeni on the sad road of 253 bus. I get hit by elbows of women that make the sign of the cross at every church on the road.
Other old man have serious fights moving rapidly their hands: we had one penalty and a half! And what if he really whistled it for you, what would you say right now?!
After three stations some drunk workers started to scuffle at the back door. They didn’t have a place to stay on the steps. I am lucky enough to have to go five stations with this bus.
I enter as a brave man at Continental Medic. At the ground floor there are some abstract paintings that color the life of people pricked by blue and white needles. I go to the reception to announce my apparition.
“Good morning! I am programmed for an urography at nine o’clock.”
“Good evening. I will have to ask you to give me your ID card.”
The receptionist that took charge of me came here a few hours before and her work is covered in telephone ringing. When she talks to somebody, all the time she has something.
She gets a large envelope where she’s going to put the films from my radiography and she also wants to put my ID in there.
“Look, I will have to put it in here.”
“Are you going to send it to me by post?”
I couldn’t have believed but she knitted her brows even more.
“What did you say?!”
“I was joking.”
The other receptionists start to giggle. It’s a rare occasion for them having to deal with a chatty boy.
“I will have to ask you to wait here until we call for you.”
“And what’s the procedure? I heard that he’s going to inject me something crafty and afterwards a radiography.Is that right?”
“He will have to inject you a contrast solution based on iodine. Afterwards you can wait here for your result.”
“There you are! …to see what I won.”
The whole business runs suspiciously well. I’m calm, I am in the mood for joking with the receptionists. I forgot that for more than a half a year I couldn’t find a medic who knows what I suffer from. I start to be nervous when I realize what dignity the assistant that will look after me has:
“Aunt Mary, come here quickly! Doc is calling for you!”
I enter scared and I wait for aunt Mary. I look at the big machine they will use to make my radiography. She comes and pushes a button. The big machine starts to spin.
“Oh, my God! Are you going to put me in it?”
“I’m not going to put you in it. I’ll just put you here, on the table. Please come and lie here. There you go, you can use this staircase and sit here peacefully.”
“I’m used to injections, as I have been to doctors for half a year.”
“Then we’ll be done quickly. But you rather have no veins. I’m going to beat you a little bit to catch one. If you’re scared, even your blood won’t run.”
My hand starts to smell like cold spirit. There’s a single bulb that lights my eyes and I try to think of something nice. I have no time. The needle pricked me and I started to hiss.
“Stay calm. Why are you so contracted? Does it hurt?”
“It’s not a real pleasure…”
“There’s no reason to hurt you.”
“But it hurts!”
“Ah! Now it’s clear! Your vein is burst! I told you to stay here peacefully. Why do you tremble like that?”
“I’m cold!”
“Give me your left hand so I can try there too. Hold this compress with your elbow. Hold tight and leave gently the left hand on your belly. Please be peaceful from now on.”
“I feel no pain.”
“Well, I think you’re just saying that, because you don’t want to be hurt any more.”
“Are you ready?”
“Almost. Does it hurt?”
“Yes, it hurts.”
“What do you mean?! Woe me!! It’s gone too! You, boy, what happened to your veins, they burst so easily…”
“I don’t know.”
“And why do you tremble like that?”
“I’m cold.”
“It’s the fear-cold that makes you tremble.”
Doc comes in.
“Aunt Mary, it’s so cold in here. Turn on these heaters. What happened to him?”
“He has two burst veins. I don’t know what happened to him.”
“And why are you trembling like that?”
“I’m cold!”
“Which is your jacket?”
“That blouse is mine.”
“Cover yourself with it and try to put yourself together. Do you have a problem with the circulatory system? Your veins burst so easily. Did happen before?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t made an injection for years.”
“The fear makes him tremble, doc! Can’t you see how contracted he is?!”
“Leave him alone now, he has spasms and his vein will burst again. Go and get Dana.”
Aunt Mary leaves for a moment and doc is in the mood for consulting me. It is the seventh time I tell the story of my life written in analyses, but now my cheek is stuck on an aluminum table and I talk as if my life is over, covered with a blouse, trembling from fear-cold.
Ms Dana enters, looks at me for a while and starts to play the tyrant.
“Oh! What a scary young man we have here! Why do you tremble like that? Are you all right?”
“Generally I’m OK, but I’m cold. This table is very cold.”
“Mattresses! Mattresses we’ll bring here to put on the table.”
“Pneumatic” I say.
“Pneumatic for Mr. Patient. Hold your fist!”
“It would be better if you waited a little longer for me to put myself together because this way my vein will burst again.”
“I won’t stay any longer, hold your fist!”
“OK, ma’am, we hold the fist.”
I hold my fist.
“Needle. There you go. That’s it. Did you see he’s all right? Take him and make the radiography. That’s the way you men are…”
She comes close to me and I ask her whispering:
“Cowardly?”
Aunt Mary hears me.
“That’s it. Say it louder because you’re right!”
I’m done with my urography. Now I wait outside. I am the pride of the hall, because I’m the only one that didn’t take out his needle. I pretend I don’t notice a man that keeps staring at me. Even he is not in the mood for my needle any more. A medic came with a radiography and started to explain him something. He even used the word “nasty”.”
They call for me to get my result.
“How is it? What have you written?”
“You can watch it for yourself. It’s in the envelope.”
“Ah. So it is OK.”
“Yes.”
“But my perineum hurts!”
“I don’t have the perineum. You should consult a surgeon.”
“I’ll wait for the other analyses, the ones that I made in the small lid, then I’ll go to Mr Manescu to see what he says.”
Monday night
My friend Adriana is always nice and asks all the time what I did at doctors.
“How was it today?”
“The urography was well too. Good results. Dead patient.”
“Get out. What do you mean?”
“Well… I have to wait for other three results.”
“Man, somebody tried white magic on you.”
“Somebody else also advised me to consult a witch.”
“If you don’t have a bad result, you go to grannies. Somebody did this to you on the Internet!”
“Mrs. also asked if I put a spell on her as her ovaries hurt since we broke up.”
“It’s a right moment to laugh but it sounds like… ovary curse. “Tell to granny, what brings you here?” “Well… he cursed my ovaries!””
“So, what part of me did they curse?”
And the discussions went on and on, but me and Adriana know each other for twelve years. She’s the only one who knows the rest.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
The Cognac Sweet
I can't write any more
cause more important things
are happening around.
In our section
appeared
a new case
on wheels
that carry
something heavy:
Withdrawal.
cause more important things
are happening around.
In our section
appeared
a new case
on wheels
that carry
something heavy:
Withdrawal.
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