What power is & isn’t
in this generation of
Who Will Save The Day.
Prank of merciless chill
with blood around the mouth.
This is a new story
about confirmation
or disconfirmation
of Uncommon irrationality
Cleverly executed.
I sat in the darkness
with a cup in-hand
as a woman with strong
-scented perfume
& pink slippers
walked lightly
into the darkness
(my geography).
I felt like an Icon of Film
which works in a strange way
if your garments
are like the framework
of post-colonial discourses
or visual art
digitized by glow-in-the-dark
objects. Am I a mere blooper
waiting to happen?
Inflammatory compulsions.
She said, “My problems range
from loss of love,
loss of heart-rate
and other lady-part stuff.”
& this is what America is all about—
Vegas vegans
meating in turquoise.
The winning numbers
do not matter here.
It’s all about
guns & missiles, shnookums,
spinning several hundred
RPMs like only a president could,
like reaching
a new plateau of maturity.
I must have been alien
or an alien,
abducting her heart.
My camera was jolted
when I photographed her
spinning in sparks
& I must have sounded like a
river-boat gambler.
“I fall in love too easily”
she said. It’s like spinning
around the sun
as a ghost of Yesteryear
in the universe’s
spin-cycle.
She sold her drama well
like programs that teach
teenagers the dangers
of shaking their babies.
The earth is crying.
The woman in pink shoes
is the earth
& I must be the earthquake
shaking
in a circumstantial way.
The seal shall be broken.
I said: “Look at it
this way: why so morose? None of us
are getting out of here alive anyway,
so cheer up...”
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