| Memorial Day 2018 |
|
I want to be a Victorian grain sack pouf when I grow up,
but after eighty years I’ve lost my confidence, especially now I notice the Catskills have disappeared in a memorial mist and the restless Hudson is standing still in a steady downpour of politics. The flag has blown a gromet and streams like Isadora Duncan’s scarf. My ambition to seat grand heinies fades into the realization there is no time to grow up — that was a sales pitch by parents up to their own good, not mine or anybody’s who could look me in the eye. I had that kind of look even in the crib that says, Who the fuck are you, and I actually met a few who were unafraid to say and understood my yearning to be preposterous things that wouldn’t get in the way of thinking straight. |
