Vernissage fr Right Before I Met Vincent
The crumbs & vapor
distinct enough not to
Even need to know
If we were going
Uptown, downtown
or crosstown
Claude and me
stumbled out of the
Wander In’ breathing heavy
Fire, to clear the way
not knowing
Even when or why it that we
headed out
last night?
A willful blur
Some micro-pill mixed
Or so Montreaux at lunch
Vodka for dinner
A floor show at the Met
With Aida Mann
Storming down the aisle
proclaiming in disgust
“That hideous soprano stole my act!”
(We escaped but not before
pouring Aida in a cab)
“take me to the Silhouette
I go on in five minutes and pick me up
In a half hour and bring me back here for
The last act.”
We were dodgy in a separate hitch
To Larry’s opening
Which the artist
usually doesn’t attend until
Everyone but possible
Fuck buddies leave
so we swung
By his flat to see
And magically
Of course
Everyone was there instead
Apparently we were the last to arrive before
Two men in kilts stood guard
Drinks were shoved
In our hands
And Claude collapsed
In a sullen heap
as everyone fell
Violin and piano music
Engulfed the room
With hostile phrases
razor sharp
note bends
furious contrapuntal
Interlocks that
faded to
echoes of blue
“I heard that once before
In Prague, after
The war.”
Vincent said
And without a word
We left on the
Steal shadows
dragged out of the room
Unwritten, unspoken
swallowing escape
vanquished eye
To truths
another day
Remembering to forget
scarred waltz time
released in the pages
Of a lost book
in transit
Riveted to the track
Crushed repeatedly
then entering a new night
When it is played again
silent nocturne