ANGELS & ALL MY OTHER FRIENDS

...and at that very moment,
when I reached for the angels
you reached towards me

Do I need any more signs?
has not the moon, and the stars
and the avatars and the angels
given me a thousand signs in my life
to show me that all is friend,

the water and the trees and the cars and the garbage
and the homeless vagabond-thieves and the writers of
bad novels and the fat-americans and their screaming children
and the endless procession of simulacra sent in a trillion digital codes
to invade every crevice of my brains synapses

...and all of these and more...
the tram to Roosevelt Island
the broken Rickshaw drivers of Pune (in their dirty brown pants and dirty flipflops)
and the boy selling candy and ciggarettes who speaks no English
and the Elelphant who shits on the sidewalk
and the relentless beggars with their performing dogs
& painted faces

and the girls from Paris who
come to my hotel room
and the ape galloping buy me with stolen papaya
and the sun bleaching my clothes
(and the way my mind empties into sunlight until their
is nothing left to do
but sit like a dog in afternoon heat,
in the middle of the
road, )