What’s in a name?
by Christos Polydorou
you take home to your mother. Other
girls you keep them away from your mother,
since they seem like they can turn her
into a lesbian lady. Cassandra, a friend of mine,
has short blonde hair,
some guy is missing her.
She has an androgynous charm.
That works on men who keep at arm
‘s length. What they really felt.
That day in their early adolescence.
She can go anywhere she wants.
But she stays perfectly still.
And calls the world to wait for her.
Not the opposite.
She had travelled, on foot, for long,
to come to this conclusion,
that she must understand that she must remain close
to the source of love’s profusion,
rather than totally try to run away
not only because there is no where to run to
but because legs get tired
and there is not always someone around
to massage your feet. It is of
much mystique, and a little bit too random,
how Cassandra, so young, survives in an exorbitant
like London, without ever asking
her family for cash.
It is because she is more than just a girl.
She is also a cigarette.
That a god keeps in his hidden stash.
Don’t you worry about Cassandra.
Her name ends in αντρα,
The Greek word for man.