There is a shift in the air
        a divergent current, before an
              outpouring of shredded clouds.

                                   There is a difference
                             in the air
                                    said our reflections,
                                             irises caught in thin veins.

           There are creases upon my dried conscience
                  the sadness tears out of my eyes
                                       Threading my past memories
                              into cycles of fallacies.

                                         Yes, it must be something in the air
                                               the air we both grew up in
                                                 the breaths we smeared upon
                                                          birthday candles months apart.

                                                         ­            We had the same troubles,
                                                                   corresponding doubles,
                                                        ­    the same ventilation of lungs.

               Then the past settled, we grew up
                            our face darkened,

                          So I let out a flash of laughter
                                                your hissing thoughts closely pursuing it
                                                              ­       like two strands of lighting
                    Perforating the piers of my gut
Sure to switch off
                                           My Volatile Heart.

We, lost Africans
left the savanna
to follow the stars
leaving the ground
to stride with arms
down by our sides
to inherit the earth
and dirt of other lands
following the caravan
of sacred elephants
taking off our black
helmets to discover
other atmospheres
learning to breathe
here as well as there
drinking and singing
like blood thirsty
tigers the dangerous
songs of maps drawn
and long forgotten.

in a meadow I appear
sad I was and without any cheer
fog filled the atmosphere
gray is the color of the skies veneer
barely making out in the distance a lone white deer
in a instant
I am standing
looking up at a chandelier
from yesteryear
it begins
it starts to spin
my mind fills
with all of my past sins
then
I am standing
at the gates to hell
I wake
I am in jail