RIO, GIVE ME A FACE
Something I long for is hunkered down
behind hedges and pilings - like dessert
hiding out after a liver course. Horrible and
tendentious stuff - all the crud in the world
gets filtered, and people eat that thing itself.
I'm looking high up at citadel tower, the corporate
head of some Langley bunch. They hide state secrets;
they talk their smack; they have 3-course lunches on
my and your dollars. Simple the swat that should take
their malfeasance down. I am no Superman,
but I know what I want.
-
Rio, Rio, give me a face, cut me a tracing, stencil my
heart. The wounds are deep and silent they run. I am
bleeding my life out on these old cobblestones, watching
people come and go. This building is nothing but real -
a piano course luncheonette just waiting my arrival.
I overhear a man talking. He says : 'If I had wanted
something to bitch about, I could have stayed home.'
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