"Life"
said the magician
It
all begins when I'm pronounced dead.
The gray granite
of a mausoleum arrives wearing a fake black mustache
as thin as licorice.
I've
always hated licorice. But I liked my forth grade science
class. Everyone was allowed to plant beans in the brown soil
of shoe boxes. Mine spouted pale green then suddenly went
limp overnight. Our teacher said this was an example of how
the "reproductive mechanism" worked. She liked black
coffee. She wore floral dresses and had a mustache too, which
she would shave off on weekends.
In
summer my dad bought bags of ice that would all melt.
The rest of the year my mom would give me subway tokens which
would hop out of my hand and roll right into the gutter especially
on the way to school.
I
used to wish I were the Jolly Green Giant. Then I'd be fitted
for a fancy custom while the makeup man sat in the shadows
sipping his gin. I've always found dirt under fingernails
to be attractive. I think it's better to give dogs human names.
A flood or a swamp. A ditch or gully. The amazing things builders
can do with vacant lots...
~
words:
Maurice Oliver, Oregon (Concelebratory Shoehorn Review)
photo: Dorothy Gantenbein, California (Dorothy
Photo)
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