Thunder Sandwich #26 - Gary Charles Wilkins poetry

Refugee Camp Child, Tanzania

Red dust cakes everything, even dreams.

A tiny house built from the same mud as

the parent's house it stands in front of-

scraps from the same plastic sheeting,

the same torn cloth and the same twigs.

They do not imagine much when they play.

The house will last until the end of the day.

His sister and he are not the lord and lady

of this house, and when it fades with the sun

he'll put on his wire frames and be a white man.

Pedro's Delirium

The halls of the insane asylum are antiseptic lime.

They glow in sterile morning sunlight.

You see son, I was a talker, I talked too much.

That was my problem. I talked all the time.

Yes, I tried suicide twice, both times with a Sputnik.

I have to tell you something that might interest you.

Wait...you know which planet I like most? Pluto.

You know why? Cause it's farthest from Earth.

And from the Sun. It's the coldest. Andromeda

is the nicest galaxy and hundrillion is the nicest number-

listen, I once dreamed I was Superman and I went flying

to the end of the universe and I felt so free, free-

sometimes I start the same dream but I can't fly,

I stand in the same spot and jump and jump but I

can't fly anymore.....what do you think of that, eh?

The halls of the insane asylum are antiseptic lime.

They glow in sterile morning sunlight.