Drunk in Lithuania

 

           

Was there ever a reason

not to drink like a fish,

a duck, or a sailor?

 

The neighbors are wasted again,

wheezing a song

we won’t find in a guidebook,

a map of crooked lines

from one verse to another:

 

there’s a maiden on a mountain

will she jump or will she marry?

 

Yesterday you fell in the lake

and lost your souvenir pine cone.

In the granite square

a lady growls when I throw

my hot dog at a statue of Čiurlionis.

What the mad genius knows

he keeps to himself.

 

bring on the seven string guitar

the golden throat of love and regret

 

for in the forest there are two paths:

one by the oak

and one by the bathrooms.

 

Bring on the lake and its shining floor

the sudden fish crowning like butterflies –

 

in case we never pass this way again.

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