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.