To the friend who helped me realize that life is meaningless and yet Synchronistic -(Originally posted March 11, 2016)

I lied to you that day my friend,


I was denied her lips— sealed shut forever,

You smiled with the nicotine labyrinths on your teeth,

When I said ‘I have some dreaming left to do’,

And you saw right through my amorphous stories

The alibis of crystal balls.

So I wouldn’t feel guilty

Enclosing myself in a confession room,

And pushing you off that neon ledge

Into that drunken highway— crash! An automobile orgy,

But I forgot,

in my hazy devotion

To the queen of wands,

That I had a friend

In the piles of unshuffled cards

I always had a jack up my sleeve—

You said, ‘I need your help’

I come to you now my dear narcissistic friend,

To save you from yourself!

Your personal bullet-vest

And you became a knight of cups to drink Japanese beer with,

Cheers! For cherished cigarette desserts after old-fashioned cheeseburgers,

And French fries smothered with gravy,

‘What was it you needed me for?’

‘I will tell you soon enough’

Caffeine, Nicotine and Alcohol in ungodly amounts,

Then you sat on the barber’s chair—

to hide your thinning hair

Hurricanes of baldness and updraft of self-conscious storms,

Led us to the quest of Rogaine

and face-lift creams,

But we bought aquamarine spices and European scents instead,

To show you had captured secret treasures,

We sought clock faces with silicon breasts

Saleswomen who couldn’t understand your slurring voice

Then I tried to catch the sight of the cashier,

The one who stole my Persian rug,

But you knew her shift wasn’t on Mondays,

We went on into the night, the moon, hidden in a Saudi veil,

I asked you ‘why you needed my help?’

And you said ‘I lied to you,’

I pressed on but the answer was the same,

I finally laughed, not because of deception,

But because I had learned everything I needed to

About the difference between beloveds’ and companions’.

I thank my liver, lung and brain friend,

Who else would be there for me?

Even if the heart never shows up…

And in the quest of saving of you, accidently, I saved myself,

Because all transit buses are filled with noisy throats,

But even worse motor skills.

Hence, it’s more convenient to ride in cabs to get to your destination faster.

And Cioran didn’t lie about the futility of a tomorrow,

And yet everything started to happen at the same time

I started to believe…

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