Friday, February 19, 2010

755. WHAT I WANT TO TELL YOU

WHAT I WANT TO TELL YOU
You'll want to know something - name, address, age, weight.
You'll not get anything from the scenery. High-hatted,
the drumroll pounces. I was born in a cage and
never have left : witness the destruction and
unleash the force. Walking on the water
makes one incomplete. The ghost
marks time - his wicked cadence
on his painted drum.
-
In the basement of the American Legion Hall,
the marching band, practicing, walks
round and round in circles on
the floor.
-
What echoes down this hallway?
The words of a man explaining himself:
how he spends his money, where the mission
shall be, how he needs to find a forum. By my
overhearing, I am forced to listen. Adjoining tables.
I am not amused. Lifestyle. Courses. Mission. Reflect.
All hideous words, from an enormous mouth. Yet, I
want to wish him well. May he populate the world with
Spirit. Out of place? No, no. What is out of place is
what is missing - the reporter, I am finding, seeks
perfection through other people's words, not his own.

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