853. HOVEL

HOVEL
Honey, it's all there: Give them a place
to live, the dreamers - though not for
long - any hovel will do, one being the
same as the next. The hallways, cramped
and narrow, should well contain them all.
-
I am listening to soundings on your
sluice-pipes, and then hot-dog Johnnie
comes home, sucking yellow Lifesavers
just to keep from breaking down. How
come, how come these people talk like that?
-
Yet, give them a place to live. Hollyhock
and Bleeding Heart - all those stupid and
quasi-religious garden plants make me sick -
like still another rendition of an 'April In
Paris' I disdain. Some soft-jazz over-arranged
voices done again by some bleeding-cunt
swooning. And no, that's not a garden plant,
though it should well be.
-
The cameraman is dizzy, from turning
'round and 'round, as he takes the
Kazan shot. The close-up fight is over,
now only the long-view will do.
-
'Do you have mine? Someone stole mine.
I think my landscaper stole it from my
garage, or took it from the shed, thinking
it was his maybe. Or something.
Do you have mine?'
-
As I said before: 'Give these dreamers
a hovel to dream in. Any place will do.'