Free
Free as a burp
after a good meal,
floating above
the politely neutral crowd
Free as a fart
in an empty elevator,
rising like incense
to the fluorescent gods
Free as a yawn
during a keynote,
the body staging its coup
against overcooked enlightenment
One by one
we become wind,
we become honest,
we become briefly, gloriously
ourselves
Vadim
Kagan
If you have any thoughts about this poem,
Vadim Kagan would like to hear them
