Thursday, December 25, 2008
#3
Monday, December 22, 2008
#2
Sunday, December 21, 2008
#1
Here’s our man
in the basement of a building
constructed circa late 60’s,
his home, Looavull.
Looavull, Kentucky
no scratch that.
in a basement-esque room in Iowa.
Ames, Iowa.
he’s playing nostalgia,
an air guitar.
his hair plays trampoline over his nose,
over his eyes.
his torso plays rocking chair
his feet play hot invisible coals under his feet.
and
his ears play late-teen alt pop punk
constructed circa mid 90’s.
and reconstructed here,
and now.
and now,
and every moment of these lines,
until they end.
oblivious to him,
we exist.
he will die first and we will die
never.
we watch him play,
whatever.
he will always be doing whatever,
but he will not always,
has not always
played.
we’ve been watching this man for a-
while
and
I will recall
for you
(lazy bum)
our man, he doesn’t play
often.
his bedroom rock ecstasy
is intermittent,
interrupted by
Work
and
Necessity.
and
Contemplation.
not that work can’t be fun,
and contemplation can’t be enlightening,
but
these are by no means adequate forms of
playing.
only adequate means for
existing.
(you have to make up your own
goddam mind if that’s good or bad. you
have to do some of the work)
as he abruptly skips
two of the boring minutes and ends the effing song,
they cry,
we cry,
Encore!
Encore!
Encore!
***
No, scratch that, our man is in McDonald’s.
there’s a fucking billion of those.
pick one, wherever,
(I’m picking Utah)
and put him on a table,
jumping and
kicking trays and
meat patties
all over McD’s playing his axe
while
mothers and fathers of Utah
(or wherever)
shield their young
impressionable
children from the sheer atrocity of
play
elevated
(literally)
to such a level.
#this kind of thing should be limited to the confines of your room! child!#
(he’s fourteen,
maybe,
here,
and now
but only for a few more lines)
can this level of fun be had
on the sticky tiled floor?
the answer is a definitive
maybe
play can only be achieved when one gathers
the jealous looks of those not able
to have fun.
***
Now he’s in california somewhere,
now Maine,
or wherever.
point being,
home is a four letter word.
and he still won’t know where
to send his mail next year.