mama, what happened here?
I ask and ask, already, one might say, grown up

rarely do I climb on a stool anymore to reach for something high

now I reach for other things, for example,
higher education –
so that I could still boast of something to my parents,
so that my relatives would be more forgiving: this one, after all, has a higher degree

mama, what happened here?
since childhood, she said, I was crazed,
always trying to comprehend what happens when you ascend

even now, I scrape my knees
choosing the wrong way
collecting black and blue marks like a child
smearing my hands with ink

this one writes and writes – what can we do? she has a higher degree
they don’t have much to boast of, my parents
in front of my relatives

mama, what happened here?
I don’t know why I wanted to be, like a boy, not a hairdresser,
but an astronaut

and then it began: earrings, climbing through windows,
staying away from home, friends, beer – I felt like I had set foot on the moon

a little later: poems about moonlight
and the search for an elevated moment – like Mačernis, our visionary

and yet I never reached a higher aerobatics
and remain
very much afraid
of heights