Brazil (Part1)

Avenue renamed to suppress the flow of secular traffic was to my 5 years of age
orange, dark green
was where, possessed had shaken off mother’s hand whilst crossing,
and demonic double-decker horns,post colonial imports of a steady epoch
had launched into varieties of grease clots and mourning


Ragtime has run out
Kronstadt redux with a mandate from twelve (Imams) 

In 47 years our missing child who left no dear debris arrives in Brazil
with neatly ironed suite of accomplishments and
peach cream lotion of bacchanal soft joys surpassed

Adam ..opens eyes to
mother
standing motionless next to another gargantuan flow
some urban arterial

…prayer beads around her neck to help our lost Adam
love’s endless sob
 recognize
-over the hum which drowned out his trace across
hemispheres of electric sheep-

mother, how in Brazil …?
I couldn’t help it she replied
you let go of me then, 1981