Kai reik grįžti ten, kur saugu ir šilta

Yra toks Zachary Schomburg. Toks, kur mano asmeninėj visatoj būtų vyriausiasis poetas. Ir grįžtu prie jo, kai reik grįžti savin. Čia nėra mano pats pačiausias eilėraštis, tokio čia ir nesidalinčiau. Bet ir šitas nieko, ypač kad apie voverę.



SQUIRREL PROBLEM

I watched a squirrel get run over by a
car on my walk to work. She was lying
dead in the street and still had an acorn
in her little hands. I was amazed how she
was able to hold onto her acorn after
being tumbled like that, after bouncing
so high off the street. I walked over to
the smashed-up squirrel and saw that her
face was blown to bits and looked like
uncased sausage spilling onto the
asphalt. But that acorn was still so tight
in those hands. I picked her up by her
tail, took off my dress shirt and swaddled
her in it, then put her in my bag. I knew
right where she was as I walked into
work, everybody looking at me,
everybody asking me about my
shirtlessness. The world was as steady as
if it were sewn into the skin of the
universe.