Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Derringer

What magnificent buckles are these? How can I love you? Press the gas into water and it will freeze. 
I imagine you. A remarkable feeling of disarray. A burning shit up party for the newspaper people and other brass. They came unclothed as a wedding gift. I wear braces as a matter of style, and do my handshaking in beachwear. They wore their bonnets correctly for the formidable types. Many of the contenders were cocky and full of clout. They were brooding types who swooned in a circle over a kettle of meat. I showed them algebra, I spoke of the sciences in joyful ways, I provided them encyclopedias and atlases. Still, they did cling to people. I was the very person for them who was both present and stellar. I mean, they called me the real one: "You are magnificent," they said.
"I have no idea who you all are," I answered.  Now everyone is sad and giddy, making matters worse than usual in this port. The forecast for rain calls for more than rain.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Excellent poem...

2:17 PM  

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