my thursday night feet followed
the silver and yellow chalk planets
down the cement milky way
leading to the comet
invitation sent by a fellow poet professor greek orthodox buddhist
and lover of merry pranksters
i am happy to be in the neighborhood where my brother lived and died
a skateboard flying shirtless little boy
says pardon me m’am as he carefully
passes me by smiling
i thank him for his manners
and observe the angel above his head wink its watchful eye
all before i float inside
this gloriously dingy bar
northside charm
juke box and appalachian pop art
served with coronas
lime
war ship burritos
and ginger salsa
he carries two dollar bills
in his money clip
that have swum
in the aegean sea
within the last century
the pink neon filtering in the window
through stained glass and punk show flyers
i forget we are not in paris
as he shows me the world he has painted
on the tips of his fingers
i notice his command of the color
blue
he smiles van gogh
as i admire both his ears
accounts settled
we make our way to the gallery
next door for the reading
the monty python painting
hung by the minister of funny art
on the wall beside me
is entitled unforeseen and unrealized day
photos of village saints
spotlight enshrined
beside gasoline tinged americana
and craftsmen tool boxes
women with androgynous clothes
oddly shaped haircuts
and vintage jewelry
too much or too little tit
never the tween shall meet
don’t applaud until the end
this is a conservative town
even in a sweltering room full of liberals
the silly puddy men are soft
so thin and yoga pliable
fresh from assembling something with a swedish name
from ikea
strategically ripped jeans
brogans
and designer frames that match their tattoos
they would all be in latte covered scarves
were it not for the augustine heat
the first performer reads of soldier fetish
loves who will not be lost despite missing limbs and lives
i am craving skin as
the last man immolated himself
for the cause of shakespeare
and ending the war
in this theatre
that is the world of poetry
i thank my friend for the lovely night
with a hug
and a
you’re so tall
bend down to kiss my cheek
goodbye
before disappearing
into the sidewalk stars
on hamilton avenue
One reply on “short film”
wonderful imagery. leaves me with a longing to visit a spoken slurred. despite my owning no torn jeans . . .
and reminds me I need a new hat!