Nothing
by Charles Simic
Charles Simic / Nada
I want to see it face to face
And then I intend to raise hell
No, I don’t have anything prepared
I’ll rely entirely on inspiration
Also, my ancestors who
Just now begin to laugh their heads off.
In all probability, I’ll make a fool of myself
Turn away grinning stupidly –
Light a cigarette with
Trembling fingers
Ask about the weather:
About that cloud, shaped
Like a medicine bundle
Hovering so still in the windless sky
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