Where are you?

Where are you?
At the top of a mountain,
gasping for air amongst the clouds.
On the bottom of the ocean floor,
searching for pirate treasure.
Inside a volcano,
eating fistfuls of molten magma.
Buried 6 feet under ground,
damp dirt overflowing your eye sockets.
In outer space,
holding onto the tail of a comet.
Being turned on a spit over an open flame,
the main dish at a family barbecue.
Wet and slimy,
traveling down a birth canal.
Alone in bed,
wishing for love.
Who would listen?

from “𝘓𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭”,
Samuel DiPaola (1997)