(no subject)
i'm in new york. as i walk along avenue c to watch the crowds for the mexican street fair i notice the whale sized bladders and hips of everyone. everything is proportional except for their midsection's. Everyone's head is on fire and they have large bronze plates for teeth. A scarlet letter representing their country of origin is tattooed to their samba beat like a sin. I buy a soda and watch an unmanned child in a stroller straining his neck, looking for his parents, or the american dream, or an ice cream cone and a picture of a hispanic jesus. I ponder buying a bright tank top that festively says "mexico". Children bounce in moon walks, occasionally staying afloat--hovering in the air, wondering how such a thing could come about. Their young mothers lasso them down with kite string or shoe lace. One child stays planted against the ceiling in a freakish homage to willy wonka or in rebellion to gravity. Finally i turn the corner, terrified of people and culture. There on the next block is a man in short cacky's and a tight light blue shirt. He wears a big red cap that puts his bottle neck glasses in the shade. In his hand is a huge walkie talkie with a five foot antenna. Over the air-waves comes a voice, talking in a fake arab vernacular. It goes on and on as I walk past, until finally the oddly shaped man lifts the radio to his face and coolly says, "shut up".