The Immigrant's Dilemma

With my brain enveloped in a headphone silence,
I was thinking about my discussion with Pauline,
And contemplating crying,
Over the ashes of an unexplored future,

She told me she was bisexual,
And the whole room morphed into a huge whirligig,
This was like being in the fifth dimension,
A psychedelic incarnation of the truth

Was I evolving in slow motion?
I had suddenly discovered a tribe of humans,
On a different branch of reality,
I wished I had read more about the subject

And there was this kind of passive aggression,
Which never rose up to the bottom,
Because I had dreamt of the huntress’s society,
And my heart felt like a pencil sharpener

So who exactly was I fighting here,
Everybody and myself?
An incomplete thread of philosophy?
Aliens from a highly debatable outer space?

I simply did not have the information.

But it was not the idea of her making love to other women,
It was the idea of her loving anyone else,
anyone else,
but myself.

The poor man can only measure his love,
On the scales of jealousy of the color of her eyes
Oh! love is the immigrant's greatest dilemma,
And resilience his only ironical weapon.



This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.