Build me the best mirage: a poem by Kevin James Miller 1. In the recesses of perfection the swarms ache; They take the form of bees, of cats, of ants with diamond arms and cyanide smiles; Utopia dances on the head of a pin and looks for losses to bake; It plummets into the recesses of perfection, for miles and miles. 2. This town is empty, this street is empty, this house is empty, and emptiness fills this room. I pass into my eighteenth summer with Martians below, above, and all around me; Ghost children are dust on my shoes, memory children are mud in my eyes, and illusion children are rust stains on the walls of the bank and its doom; On another planet, I had eyes for a thousand years but could never see. 3. I was born the day before Valentine’s Day 1959, and I might as well have been born on Neptune; I remember in the 1970s with the driver’s license I didn’t have and the car I didn’t own going with the friends that didn’t exist to … I don’t know. Some place fun. A beach, maybe; A fat doll fake general blows up disco baseball and my generation of American young men appears and vanishes in one night and can’t carry history’s tune; This is my dream, this is my story, seriously and honestly and really this is my baby. 4. In a better, healthier timeline, a computer found my girlfriend and wife and every episode of “Friends” is documentary on how to clean your garage; What revenge body will your wear today, love? – They are waiting for you in the world’s backyard, and they are building you the best ever techno-color, low-fat, Wi-Fi mirage. Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Posted on: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 17:55:30 +0000
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