Indian Summer
David Dephy
That’s right, friends, it was an Indian summer.
I was sitting in the New York’s taxi, as I was
sitting in the hammock hanging on the waterfall
and I was thinking about myself on the waterfall…
“When we are not ourselves we are killing ourselves,”
I thought. “We are the lights when we are ourselves,
but when we aren’t we are killing the lights.
The reflections of us only, remain the same.
It’s impossible to be yourself, but you can,
no one was yourself before you, you’ll be the first,
you always can be yourself.” The cab driver looked
at me in his rear view mirror, he saw my face with
the sun behind me. The sun was going down, sinking
behind and across and under and above the Manhattan
and Brooklyn bridges and I thought of all the ideas
that maybe I, or maybe we left undone.
The cab driver turned on the radio, Billie was singing
there and the driver said to me: “Yeah bro, as a driver,
I can say that it’s not beautiful to be the second Billie
Holiday and it’s impossible too, right?”
“Exactly,” said I and smiled, of course.
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David Dephy is a trilingual Georgian/American poet, novelist, essayist, performer and multimedia artist. Dephy is the winner of the 2019 Spillwords Press Poetry Award for June’s Publication of the Month and the finalist of the Adelaide Literary Award Anthology 2019 for the category of Best Poem. His works have been published and anthologized in USA and all over the world by the many literary magazines, journals and publishing houses. He lives and works in New York City.
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