RIC S. BASTASA

i check myself.
One way, and i think the best one
is seeing myself in the mirror.

Close-up.
Touching my mustache.
Staring at my own eyes.
Following the lines of my cheek,
down the chin,

opening my mouth,
my teeth are not that white
my tongue is not red
something is hanging
inside
like a bat, it can make the
sound

they are wrong
i am not ugly
i have not gotten old
like my contemporaries

some died early
i do not blame them
perhaps life is not
that promising

majority says it
is a misery
always sorrow here and there
and disappointments

if it is a painting
there is more smudge
of black
and deep red
boldness in the strokes
and lines

i check myself
feel my temples

i am alive and that is good enough
for me.

i guess, like you,
(as you read this)
we are still lucky

do you have a hand?
shake mine.

do not ask me if
i have lips
because for sure
i still have them

and the only possibility for
it to still be lips
is to share them

if you like....