Things Will Get Better
(Ekphrastic Poem)
These possible lives, Fleury and Jaggy’s,
When Ken came from SF empty of shoes,
His short opera began without voices
But muttering,
About light weight virgins with
Pink vulvas: puckered mouths.
You could not misplace them,
Simply because that’s all you wanted to see,
Drooling dolls lined up in ballerina slippers
And spandex, mostly gray,
As if the whole event of my gawking
Was morally deprived.
Oh, and you mentioned how they were all Asian.
The slightest and most petit waifs
Without any notice except that even in their
Seeming innocence, they judged me.
Everyone pirouetting in a line I could not cross even if I
Wanted.
Neither of us can afford anything but a completely willing Person,
And even so, they have to be naive-
We might last one date and then we thumb through our Wallet,
Eyes glazed.
I feel liable:
Checking AdultFriendFinder.
Women from London and Temecula, but this woman from
Danville never got back.
Mid-September is here.
It’s the 13th.
I feel great, delusional.
I worked one day this week.
I recorded a number of compositions but I had run out of
Memory.
They disappeared like all the women.
I even sang with the microphone and portable speaker as
The stereo speakers
Were playing “Right Here.”
I am feeling better about my voice.
A perfumed blouse. I remember.
I walked behind a woman with no butt and she smelled of
Cheap perfume.
I can’t place it. It’s a common form.
I had a piece of meat last night. Chef’s graces.
I would love to travel by car with friends.
We wouldn’t even have to drink.
I would love to go to bars or places along the way and play
Music and sing.
I was trying to sing opera.
Perhaps, I will try to record myself.
It must be fun seeing Asians coming to work?
You have your own at home.
There should be no bitterness, just a kind of knowingness.
Women are just people, aren’t they without our minds a
Scurry
Covering over their forms?
Sex just seems to be this recurring theme.
I want to have sex more than eating.
But, I live in so much sand.
And now smoke.
My music is satisfying me.
I am recording it in 24-bit.
I have no bitterness, per se,
And that’s because I am avoiding reality.
I know I have to pick up another job, at least.
I don’t look forward.
Tied down to a kind of empty formality.
I have no temerity and that’s because I don’t know what
That means.
When they started off-shoring, I knew we were going
Under.
We keep wanting other people to do our work.
I slept almost eight hours last night,
And no artist should ever marry,
But he should be with women to inspire him.
And things will get better.
