HOW SUDDENLY I
BECAME SUBVERSIVE
Using my magic stilts, I was high
above the crowd. All I saw were
little faces. Screaming. Loud.
Each like a pilaster of granite
shouting from some personal
anguish. Perceived as such,
anyway - in whichever manner
a person's sole honor is breached.
-
It reminded me of 1978; back in the
days of China Books, when that
little bookstore for Commies was
at ground level of the Flatiron
Building. I bought my Chinese
Mao Red Star and book there.
-
All these college types, the nervous
guys and their neurotic girlfriend;
scheming, talking, nodding. They
stayed in knots in that tiny, little
store, discussing ramifications of
killing girl infants, or the 1-kid
limit, or the Great Leap Forward,
or 300,000 dead from that Cultural
Revolution.
-
I pinned that star on my beret and
kept it there two years; looking like
a geek from a Mandarin potty. It's
lucky I wasn't killed.
No comments:
Post a Comment