To your health!
I’m holding wine glass, I’m waiting.
You know this is a dream; one of the world’s great leaders is standing in front of me.
“I am,” I say, “I love you so much.”
“I know,” he says, “I know you very well.”
“Sir,” I say.
“Your democracy is my favorite your part.”
The ancient Greek Senate appears behind us.
One of the Greek Senators at the middle row is yelling: “Democracy has never been so popular.”
All of them stand up with thunderous applause.
I’m seeing that they aren’t wearing Chiton like at painting and sculptures, I ignore these men in boxer shorts.
I am shedding tears of happiness.
Weather is clear and sunny, the men and women at the outside.
They keep going press the keys of their pocket pc.
“Please watch sir,” I say,
“People seem look so happy. If your democracy didn’t exist, they weren’t going to learn that who fu**s to whom in where.”
His assistant nods, he is giving a document by saying:
“Sir, this is for a weapon agreement; nuclear version of them.”
“Let’s signature on it, immediately,” he says; my beloved leader is grinning from ear to ear.
The Greek senators at background are being photographed intimately.
I guess, they took overdose intimacy that; they don’t realize that Diogenes hangs over their heads.
While Diogenes dangles with a huge guffaw at the end of the rope, he is flushing the toilet.
All of them on images are drawn into the hole in a vortex.
When Diogenes went out with laughing behind them,
“You see, democracy lovers never been understood in history, like today’s,” says my unique leader.
My dear leader is very sad.
Obviously, there are a lot of things get bored of him.
Assistant is showing gazette on the table.
What the hell is that! Big headline is about leaders!
‘A few people about one million, demonstrated against world leaders. They accused to the leaders with dictatorship.’
I stood speechless.
“We are democracy disciples, but they don’t understand us,” his sorrow voice says.
I’m bending with all my body.
I want to stick on floor, while I make to him a curtsy.
I am starting to talk.
“Sir, even the best sheep man can be confused in a world where so many sheep is.”
He is becoming happy.
He is throwing out crumpled paper to the waste basket.
His assistant turns on the television.
In another corner of the world,
Again protesters and anarchists, again accusations.
I’m looking at his assistant, I don’t like him.
Constantly he is creating something could be worrisome for my dear leader.
While I was thinking about him “You are inauspicious man”, each letter on my thought is flying and sticks into him like a dart.
Assistant of my leader is being injured with flying letters, he almost falls down.
Last impact is coming from my leader; with kind of showy karate stroke.
The assistant is going down in slow motion.
At the same time, the voices heard from television are very loud.
‘We are hungry, out stomach is empty.
Not just we, even animals can’t find food.
From jellyfish in the sea to bear at the forest, all of them complain about you.’
“Reprobates!” I say, and I attach than:
“Although you feed them with too much popular things for saturating! Sir, these are rapacious!”
“Come,” he says, “don’t worry.”
He is holding my hand. We are starting to make tap dance like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
Meanwhile his assistant is at his last gasp.
But, he accompanies to us by playing contrabass.
I think that I was wrong about him; now, I’m looking at him with mercy.
My dear leader soothes me: “Don’t be sad, he is a democracy martyr.”
We are walking on air, when I lose myself, my eyes are opening.
My dear leader as Hitler of Charlot, is bouncing the world at his ass.
A lot of magnificent leader are keeping time.
“Give me, give me too!” by yelling they all.
All together jumps around.
But I am waking up.
I am in the hospital room.
I will burst with happiness under the influence of dream.
But I can’t fly; even I am not able to walk after the nuclear explosion.
…
-Migo, when have you written this?
-In September 10, 2011, WD.
-So, this is your first and last poem.
-Yes, something like that, maybe there are another three or five. I’ve realized when I’ve written poem, it was not like a poem. While writing this, I was in serious mood, but the funny thing appeared.
-This one is something I can do, not yours. I am the funny one in this relationship, Migo!
-Ok, ok. You know, I love writing stories real or not. But, this one already, I guess, is the work belongs to poets. And of course, I will never intervene your “funny” space, WD;)
-I am sure, you will!
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