DALI EYE IDOL I
Holding the leash on his Whippet,
the tall man signals me to enter
his picture. I access from across
his lake - me Natty Bumppo too -
and make this meager entrance as
people talk at me. The two shaved
women sit across the table from me;
they are bouncing words as predetermined
balls, everything without meaning and each
a set-piece in place. They talk of where
they are to go already, and already I am
gone. My feet step off into the muds of art.
No harm. The tall man, holding the reins
on his Whippet, bends and - as I watch -
he gracelessly lances a dream. I think back
to Summer, when, without words, I - and only
I it was - sat alone amidst the wedded trees.
Holding the leash on his Whippet,
the tall man signals me to enter
his picture. I access from across
his lake - me Natty Bumppo too -
and make this meager entrance as
people talk at me. The two shaved
women sit across the table from me;
they are bouncing words as predetermined
balls, everything without meaning and each
a set-piece in place. They talk of where
they are to go already, and already I am
gone. My feet step off into the muds of art.
No harm. The tall man, holding the reins
on his Whippet, bends and - as I watch -
he gracelessly lances a dream. I think back
to Summer, when, without words, I - and only
I it was - sat alone amidst the wedded trees.
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