|Ducks and Them!
Red wine in a red Dixie old book beside new
books on the mind and water beside.
Fan flying - dust coughing agitator of pillow feathers and
orchid leaves -
a cautious blur, caged breaker of no buck horizons.
And the yellow duck has its back to me,
vacant plastic gaze, china glaze, china screen, California night.
Terrible brain bleaching heat pushed back, back, back.
And the duck is just watching, waiting for the call.
You think you’re so important with your sunglasses and your cell phone -
big as a brick?
Look around -
see that clipper ship on the box there?
Calm seas now but Ahab’s down in the galley,
cooking up some incredible madness.
First the feast and then the teeth,
worlds and wheels and eyeballs all spinning.
He’s sailed right past the treasure
and straight into hideous shit of nightmare time.
Also he’s lost the shovel.
But the duck knows,
says its all academic, now.
Tells me to forget about all that nonsense,
tells me -
about epic fights in alleyways and hobo fire heroism,
black-capped secret messages behind the cardboard proclamations,
dolled up tricks of tyrant evil death kill murder robber squads.
I take back what I said, duck,
© Copyright 2012 Kai Adamson (UN: kaiadamson at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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