Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Retro thoughts. Seems like it was only



Today the wrappings came off the sculpture. And no one--
in the blue beginnings of this hazy November evening has any idea
where those wrappings may be. Maybe Tina knows, but
I’m sure Cher has absolutely no clue. Ditto, the arts guys in that little
house at the source of Second Street, even if they and/or their mercenaries are responsible. Nobody cares about wrappings.

Maybe my mom. She opens her presents very carefully, and I think
she just might save the wrapping. Sometimes. I wonder if they save the
gauze they wrapped Jesus in. When they laid him in the tomb, y’ know?
Or was that white linen? Was Jesus that cowboy they wrapped in
white linen? Just asking.

If anyone knows where the wrappings are, I’d like to have them.
Maybe, for another project. Or, a menu from the Colonnade-- I’d like
one o’ them too, not for a project-- just for auld lang syne.
On the front of the menu-- “Your Hosts: George & Vasilike
Kyriakopoulous, Your friends forever.” Hey, Eminem,
that’s a wrap! I am the word, the truth...
Cleveland Williams. In bronze,
Like this.
A very young
Yasir Arafat
about to have
his hopes &
dreams for a
free Palestine
snuffed out by
the forces of
capitalism &
industry as
Diana Ross,
piteously wails,
pleads, Stop!
Stop! Stop!
Stop! in the
name of love....

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