Paradise

Paradise?

In the quarry, a phosphorous lake, lifeless
empty, but corpses have been floating
here, often headless or with no hands,
the mob killing each other, something for
crime magazines to write salacious about
for those addicted to the pornography of
violence. But today is different, a man in
a yellow rowing boat, with a fishing rod,
he’s standing up on the boat angling, loses
his balance falls into the lake, that from
a distance looks like an evil eye gone blind
and senile. There is a boat in the motionless
water, no gull shrieks here, air is stale and
the stillness hums of Nirvana.