some people have congregated
around the right books
knitted eyebrows
hands holding chins
discussing about
the solidity of characters
the sharp social criticism
the fine storytelling skills
the themes of life and death and love
revisited.
some others are pondering
about the right album
slowly bobbing heads
huge earphones like a toreador’s hat
applauding how it
departs from earlier tradition
experiments with different genres
achieves a new sound
deserves its place
among this year’s revelations.
and me
I’m alone
on a crossroad
surrounded by water
and headless rice stalks
completely incapable of
analyzing
describing
naming
daring to conjecture what could be
the right afternoon light.