Wednesday, February 3, 2021

13,398. EAT THE HEIGHTS

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.

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