The Devil and I Understand Each Other

The devil and I understand each other
like two old friends.
Sometimes he turns into my shadow
and goes everywhere with me.
He climbs up on my nose
and bites it
and breaks it with his pointy teeth.
When I’m by the window
he says “jump!”
behind my ear.
Here in bed he lies down
by my feet like a child
and illuminates my insomnia
with fireworks.
He never stays still.
He walks around like the damned,
like a madman, guessing
things I don’t tell myself.
Who knows what kind of drops he puts
in my eyes, that I see myself

with the face of a devil
when I’m distracted.
Sometimes he holds
my fingers while I write.
It’s rare and strange. He sometimes
seems regretful.
The poor thing knows nothing
about himself.
When I’m saint-like I begin
whispering in his ear
and it makes him dizzy and I get my revenge.
But after all
we’re friends
and he’s as tender as a quince,
and he feels lonely, the poor little guy.

Posted: April 16, 2012 at 7:04 pm