It’s imminent. No telephone
can shield us now. Grant us
the passage of least resistance,
make the pain never go away.
Because when it does. It’s as if
the Tonys were a movie fighting
an evil version of the Incredible
Hulk. Or boots made out of llama
hyde. It wasn’t Tony that drove to
South America, killed all those bugs w/
Kool-Aid at sky o’clock. It wasn’t
us wearing our fanciest bandanas
as we buckled up in the rocket-ship.
And anyway, this was before the
foreclosure, before the initial war
ning signs, before the airwaves
elaborated on the threat, ramping
it up to elephant. That gorgeous
Dumbo in my soul. How we then
recall zingers long forgotten, and
are even more certain of the
wasteland they all were. She
orders a shot from the nose of a
pre-sliced clown. The guarana
seizes her sinuses until the
cyan—guarana & cyan—“Re
member, it’s like Jack &
Diane”—makes them bleed.
