Sooner Or Later

Mountain peaks jutting up
Like broken teeth, rounded tops
Swollen like bellies about to go
Into labor, together with everything
Down here are merely the sky's bottom,
he whispered, swaying in front of me
like some bird losing its bearings,
And the air is nothing else but
A dried-up ocean in which they
Still fish us with dynamite.
Sooner or later you'll see what I
See if you hear my whole story.

I glanced at an orange plastic water
pistol tucked in his waist and waved
him off, my hand remaining in the air
as if waiting for the other to surrender
as well, but he continued to sway
by the table, his right hand empty
jacket sleeve pinned to the pocket
into which I had thoughtlessly stuffed
enough money for a drink or two.

You'll be allowed to rise to the surface
Sooner rather than later, he proclaimed,
having taken the money out with his left hand,
and moved slowly two tables away from mine,
making three young men burst into laughter,
their thumbs pointing up, left and right
index finger pulling a trigger mockingly.

I sat staring numbly at the open window
in the building across the street,
my memory suddenly invaded once again
by the sound blasting from a tape
recorder in the room's yawning darkness:
Sooner or later I'll get you, you
Know; I'll be patient and so will you,
For you have nothing else to do
But wait for me to come to you.

The lyrics of the old love song used
not so long ago to make people come
out of the dark cellar, with one hand
up, the other clutching whatever was
left of their forgotten life.

I looked around, but the man was gone,
and so were the three young men,
the waitress appearing at my side:
Sir, we are to close now.

Sooner or later you'll have to, sooner
Rather than later, I muttered, oblivious
to her puzzled look, and went in search
of an open cafe and the man with one
hand and the plastic water pistol,
my aluminum leg adjusting slowly
to the rhythm of the other as I quickened
my pace, gulping the sultry night air.