With the Body of a Gorilla
lumbering about the flat,
eating bananas, and then sitting
in the fucking chair, staring
out the window
as if I were in a fucking zoo
or some shit, unable to leave,
I run my big paws over the keys
with the stupid brain of an ape
imagining I am Thelonious Monk
of course, jangling the bones
of dead and long lost inmates
who didn’t survive captivity,
who never made it out of the cage
alive like those great gray herons
I keep seeing sailing over the flats,
heading towards the river, flapping
their wings against the air,
while I tie my leg against bamboo
and practice letting myself go
without ever setting foot outside
the front door.