SOLUTION
YOU SAY YOU GOT A REAL SOLUTION
I say to the BIG BURLY MAN at Metro: You going in here? Now gesturing
to the cashier I am approaching BBM at Metro: Darling I don’t know
where I’m going We commiserate There is nothing vivid about today
Dark grey hulking April He takes my comrade in arms chitchat for
something else +follows me to my car making soft mewing sounds
A lot of men call me pet names: darling honey sweetheart The ones I know
have reserved others: Frosty a.k.a. strong forthright woman though this is not
what they mean It rhymes with witch Also: Little Aprill Loo Red Munia (!)
Sister Christian 3rd husband: Buzzkill due to penchant for moaning about
anarchy quite endlessly +Buttercup as in suck it up These might be heard
as somewhat endearing
Perhaps it is time to reign it in? Effervescence can be bloody tiring for all
Do not confuse humanitarianism with people person which I am decidedly
not Last night well into the wee hours I tried to convince a young interlocutor
that my real interest is in the microcosm +he suggested I may even be a
Republican! Sans the gun lust But it became a little tricky when I waxed
romantic on Leon Trotsky (Lev Davidovich Bronstein) Trotsky is not the
answer to anything! And he left in a huff
But Trotsky did more than dream revolutionary dreams even though he ended
up ice-picked in Mexico And his revolution ok a hammer + sickle fuck you
to the masses A gateway to the Gulag that swallowed up the poet Akhmatova’s
son Lev + later Osip Mandelstam The great poet Anna A. stood in line with
bread for Lev for up to 16 hrs each day while he languished in prison One surefire
way to bring her to her knees You cannot suck and blow at once Tow the party line
or never be published again in your lifetime
Today there is much talk of Revolution And so many different movements afoot
But none feels terribly Trotsky Yet in the face of another chemical attack on Syrian
children it may be time for anarchy+apocalypse a la Cormac McCarthy’s: The Road
Mere Revolution will not do Without despots herding + opiating us we run amok
And after the Fall deep in a glade the one un-butchered family who remain wonder
how they will steal the fire Gnash pointy incisors +howl at the moon Utopias are for
innocents Suck it up
__
Once there were brook trout in streams. On their backs were vermiculate
patterns that were maps of the world. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which
could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where
they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.
(Cormac McCarthy The Road 2006)
Spring 2018 btw Zara has a Spring shoe lucite heel with a goldfish in it U in?
