DESTINIES – Daniel Ionita
Like with all of us, I was portioned a few destinies,
crammed one into the other
according to some arcane previously approved decisions.
These days I vaguely remember them.
In one of them I was selling happiness to some tourists -
I was selling it as if it was some fairy-floss
from which they would take one bite,
and then throw it into the next rubbish bin.
In another one I was some nocturnal clown
with long work experience for the amusement of your body.
Then, from time to time I would suddenly transform into a chubby Father Christmas – always rushing and with a fed up attitude -
who ‘d distribute toys made in China to all those of a puerile, immature condition,
many of whom deserved a back hand across their faces.
(I was in fact doing exactly that when their parents were looking away.
They would scream that Father Christmas has hit them…,
but their parents would explain to them, patiently, that in fact Father Christmas does not exist.)
Often I would wake up as a customs officer for thoughts and dreams,
charging duty for all sorts of high volume subjective goods,
from prayers to palaver,
which were passing, planned or haphazardly, through people’s heads – mine, yours, everybody’s.
I would stack them in a folder to be evaluated later,
at the Last Judgment.
Finally, with the passing of time,
I was introducing myself as a professor of calligraphy,
in a world where no one was writing with pens anymore.
They were all laughing at me, pounding on keyboards – monotonous and deadly keyboards.
But all of these destinies would flicker faintly like some lights on the horizon,
which could not dim the brightness of the stars on the mid-summer night sky…
because through all of these lives I loved you.
Therefore I only vaguely remember them…