i – parched in desert thirst – wander upon
a crouched blind man,
who holds his brains in his hands.
i ask him,
why carry your brain as you do
in this desert heat?”
he stares with milky eyes toward me
“my mind is filled to the brim
with endless sorrow
and i aim to remove it.”
and proceeds to take another bite
from the already moth-eaten cortex.