FLYING TO EUPHORIA
I'm out of here : I've got my ticket to
Marienbad and I'm going to laugh at the dead.
Bread on the easel, water in the pan, and all
pencils sharp, I'm going to draw my way to
Hell. I'm headed to euphoria with the Devil's
laughing face. I used to sit around reading
Mary Cantwell - I loved her NY memoir
notes, all those lovely addresses and the action
and the street. Had she been alive just yesterday
she would have been mine, I guarantee. But,
this husk of corn is just a memory I hold. Now,
with my feet up of a shelf-hide couch, I can only
whistle on Barrow Street without her. My heart
is still hurting, but I am moving on. I am flying
to Euphoria, flying to Euphoria once more.