46. "it's not just their tentacles"
46. June 17, 2010 ('Tale' at Galapagos, Brooklyn)
i never thought i'd say this, but this is a great albino
Coney Island draught. A medieval dinner table on dark Water
St. Restaurant across from the Galapagos, an industrial cave
theatre of piano Pierrots and fairy MC's, aerialists
motioning their mirrored silhouettes in the floor's
reflecting pools to cross over, join them in rhinestones,
garter'd leotards and cloud silks. My contortionist muse
joins us to merch, sashays in layers of lace, PVC, metallic
undergarments jingling in giant headphones & boots
daring anyone to do more than squint at her sparkle
on the subway. On stage, a stumbling white rabbit with porcelain
clock-face clanking 'gainst pearls, the Red Queen
(who does not throw fits, just inkstands!) traverses the aisle
with accordion, glowing amply where one ought (over heart).
We rouse audience from reverie of burlesque psychoanalysis,
our furry fixation with the fairy tale, our penchant for skeletal
puppets and trees. i escape the venue's prison-like restroom
(spotlights on each toilet, ladies, everything else dim cement)
for the Brooklyn Bridge park, tiny tea lights surround
a couple on the rocks, a late night wedding
photo shoot. i could live here, i think for the first time
before the feeling of millions of people on pills and billions
of tall burning buildings in every direction closes in. Our Wonka
Walter and i fantasize about forest-life. A pocketwatch
click, and no hanky to dab our upper lips. We're terribly
late, and these directions aren't even in the prisoner's
handwriting! We'd best be headed home to Boston,
Wonderland for this band of stoop-sitting rabbits.
week7: 1, 2, 3
http://locksmithy.livejournal.com/tag/poem-a-day
archived on poetesss.tumblr: week1 - week2 - week3 - week4 - week5 - week6
weekly archives ~ http://poetesss.tumblr.com/tagged/poem_a_day