EAT THE HEIGHTS
I was maybe born blind? My
mother kept saying, 'Can't you
see?' I could see, but I couldn't
understand : flowers that bloomed
at midnight, or Christmas-season
displays? Leaving me cold and
destitute, she moved on.
-
Now, I'm at 57th Street, outside the
Art Students League, having a Joe
by the Osborne Apartments; whatever
that pile of brown brick is now called.
I'm looking for Ouspensky but all
I get is Madame Blavatsky instead.
Maybe my Mother will call. Once
more. Can't you see?
-
Who, me? No. My new friend,
Mirabelle, has now taken all my
attention, and I'm distracted as
hell : She's got all the right looks
for my mischief, and sneers back
with the same mischief to me.
-
I think we'll go do some art; or
at least see what we can see.
No comments:
Post a Comment