In the Tavern of Lost Souls
Page 8
"Take up masturbation."
"Just why are we here, then?"
"Because, one, by reading our poems and listening to each other's, we become better poets. It's a cultural sharing. I know I come away with a few new ideas to try each time. And, two, if we didn't meet, I wouldn't write poems. I'd just think about writing poems. And, three, I improve my poetry by seeing how you respond to my poems. I watch each of you for the way you squint your eyes and slurp your drinks if you don't like something, and how you act if you do."
"Enough! Let's read. I'm going to practice my squinting and slurping in advance."
"Maybe you'll like my poem?"
"On this topic? Fat chance."
"It was a tough topic. Or should I say a stupid question. But I, for one, am quite satisfied with what I did with it."
"Maybe you're getting better."
"Maybe I've learned how to write poems suitable for three wierdos and a bartender."
*
Should a Bed have a Zipper? [Blossom]
a bed is a zipper
you just have to watch carefully
to see whether, every night
you're coming a little bit together
or a little further apart.
*
Should a Bed have a Zipper? [Calhoun]
Pay attention
This is particularly important
Especially if you think you're being followed
Your name;
If you find it in a magazine
Sometime between insomnia and the touch of dawn
You must act quickly
Tear the sheets from the sweating bed
Wrap them around you (no time, no time for clumsy zippers)
Get onto the street
Ignore the dark lawns, the occasional car
The dark-cloaked gypsy whistling, the badly-dressed vampires
Stalking memories, God calling people home
Somewhere, people are tired of waiting
Somewhere they're ready to roll the stone away
And
You must be there!
*
Should a Bed have a Zipper? [Lollie]
Oh, God, yes, a woman needs
A bed with two lives, firmly separated
By a zipper. At least
One part the childhood bed
With enough room for a teddy bear
A spread with a print of Sleeping Beauty
The late morning sun through the lace curtains,
A stuffed brown puppy fallen on the floor
And, on the wall, a picture of a horse.
Zip, unzip, flip, change: the room transformed
She has her other bed, all
Red satin, with enough room for a hairy
Snorting man, all hands and laugh and groin.
A Picasso print on the wall
Black dress on the floor, and
Six hours till breakfast.
When a woman approaches a bed
At bedtime or any other time
You must be very careful to find out
Which bed she wants to get into.
*
Should a bed have a zipper? [Alf]
May the sun bless your heart
Every day
Every day of your life
May the moon frame your lips
With silver
Every night
May you smile
When I come through your door
Till the morning
Till the morning wakes us
But if I find your bed empty, one day
And all those zippers drawn tight
May I leave as quietly as yesterday's starlight
Taking with me only a memory of
Sunlight, moonlight
And your smile
****
Chapter 28: If I Have A New Home, Can I Eat My Cereal on a TV Tray?
"Not as funny as it could be," Cal said. He set his beer on the TV tray in front of him. Lollie, Alf, and Blossom had their own TV trays, facing each other. Cal looked over towards the bartender; he was watching the wall, as usual.
"Shaky," Lollie noted. "Be careful."
"You'll note," Alf said, "that none of the TV trays match."
"All we need now," Blossom said, "is a new home."
"Nope," Lollie said. "Not again no more." She took a big sip of beer and looked up at the TV screen, blinking her eyes rapidly. "I don't expect any more good moves. Not unless the lottery comes through for me."
"I've had a lot of new homes," Blossom said. "Every one started out summer and ended up winter. The only way to get back to summer is to get another new home."
"I've been listening to the trucks in the street." Lollie folded and unfolded her poems. "I hate them for their motion. Because they're going someplace and I'm not. When it rains all day I can feel the clouds moving over top of the apartment building. They're moving and I'm not."
The fries arrived, and Lollie handed the bartender a set of the poems.
"Every man," Alf said, "knows that he's really just a little boy. He pretends to be grown up, but he's always afraid someone will find out."
"Every woman," Lollie said, "lives on the precipice of madness. Love and biological clocks and children and parents and coffins…. We lean on love, and there's nothing to love but men and your kids, and when we end up in that empty apartment, with a wine glass on a TV tray, we have nothing to turn to."
"It's a rough decision." Cal spoke up. "Should I have another beer or just throw myself in front of a steetcar?"
"You're a shit," Blossom said.
"Go for the streetcar," Lollie said.
"In that case, I'll go for the beer. Then we can get back to generalizing about men and women." Cal got up.
"I'll go with you," Lollie said. "In case the aliens come to get you back."
*
If I Have A New Home, Can I Eat My Cereal on a TV Tray? [Calhoun]
I will get nothing from the tooth fairy
When I spit out my last tooth
No praise from the nurses
When they finally diaper me
And nothing when I say
My last word
But they'll remember me
I was the one who ate his meals
On a TV tray
Because I would not stop trying
To carve my name
Into the oak dining table
Nobody discards fine oak.
*
If I Have A New Home, Can I Eat My Cereal on a TV Tray? [Blossom]
around midnight, it began to snow.
we turned out the lights, and watched
the diamonds float past the streetlights
i wanted to light a candle; he said no; that
cold and bright have their own beauty
and warmth is danger, then
i wondered what voyage his mind was taking
and if his heart would follow.
i offered him hot chocolate on a tv tray
we watched the cold and the bright.
*
If I Have A New Home, Can I Eat My Cereal On A TV Tray? [Alf]
Give away everything that might
Outlast you
Put it all into
Love, laughter, and life
Laughter is a light bark, easily sunk by
The weight of gold, Ikea tables, and fine glassware
Drink your favorite wines only in cracked cups
Eat easy-to-peel tangerines
Love is quite durable, but if it forgets joy
It becomes an empty table in a cold Paris winter.
Invest everything in love
But only if it brings laughter
Invest everything in laughter
Life does not allow
The harvest of chaff
However much you pay for it.
*
If I Have A New Home, Can I Eat My Cereal on a TV Tray? [Lollie]
Oh, yes, yes.
You must.
Don’t ask how I know. I won’t tell. Not yet.
Lawn chairs. Better yet, a shipping crate. Please.
TV trays from garage sales.
Get new ones each week. Fresh furniture, like paper towels.
Even curtains are chains to the moment that you bought them and who you bought them with (use sack cloth on the windows).
There are locks with no keys, timestamped with the howling pain of old laughter. You don’t want this. Trust me.
Did you know they don’t let you throw old furniture into the canal and beds into the harbor? The Grimsby police Sgt. Anderson will have a word with you, Dr. Beaton, too. He doesn’t listen to reason.
Short leases. Destroy all your furniture before you leave.
That’s the way the world runs. Pick only what you can destroy. Leave in the night.
There’s not a hell of a lot I learned.
That’s it. Burn these words after you’ve eaten them.
****
Chapter 29: When is it Funny to be a Slave?
The four stared at each other across the table. They'd arrived as usual, but had been refused beer, the bartender offering no explanation.
Unsettled, they had read their poems and sat in silence.
The bartender arrived, carrying the usual plate of fries. Stuck into the middle of the pile were five lit birthday candles.
The bartender turned and beckoned. From a far table came a middle-aged woman with a large hat. "Wonderful!" she cried. "Someone's birthday!" She sang "Happy Birthday to Whoever" five times, and kissed everyone on the cheek and patted them on the head.
Then she pulled up a chair, and began telling everyone about her birthdays, as much as she could remember, from age three on. She remembered an astonishing amount.
Abruptly, Cal leapt up, looking at his wrist. "Omigod, the last bus is due in a minute." The effect, Lollie noted, would have been better if he'd actually had a watch, but it was enough.
"No!" Blossom cried, getting her coat and purse.
"I can't afford another taxi!" Alf grabbed a handful of the fries, and, stuffing them into a pocket, ran for the door.
Lollie sat there for another hour, listening.
*
When is it Funny to be a Slave? [Lollie]
His shoes unmatched, untied, his open fly unfurls
His shirt, one tawny tail to golden autumn sun.
I kneel in leaves just out of range of wino breath
To toss him magic bottle, plastic shape encasing
Whiskey spirits. One wish granted him this day.
Eyes focus, hand one reaching, hand two swipes
At matted mane and drool in gorgon beard.
I heave a sigh, said, “I cannot ignore you longer;
It’s compassion now, or mockery, and I need all
Pity for myself. So today I’ll laugh at you.
Your masters must be entertained, so dance, man dance.”
Beyond the cooling sky God guffaws too, I know;
Free will, free whiskey, dances free on city streets.
He drinks, then smiles and offers it to me. I refuse.
“Dance for all us gods,” I whisper once again
I show him a jig, a pirouette, and hum a tune.
He drops the bottle, eyes roll up – too rich I guess.
“A fine comedy,” I tell a passer-by
But as a musical, it’s missing quite a bit.”
“Maybe so,” he says, “But I thought you danced quite well.”
*
When is it Funny to be a Slave? [Blossom]
after
a thousand years, and a dozen beers
or
a dozen years and a thousand beers
I've got lots of photos:
it'll be a hoot.
*
When is it Funny to be a Slave? [Calhoun]
"No," she said, the last yellow
Leaves of poplars dancing
Around her feet,
"No."
I tried to tell her what I knew, that
Laughter is made of strings.
"They've paved Florida," I told her instead
My hands in my pockets
"Can't pave warmth," she said
Kicking the leaves,
"I'll sit on the beach
Watch the kids flying their kites."
I lost a kite like that, once
The string snapping
The kite soon gone
Me, wailing after it.
I don't believe it flies
Forever
But the kite never listened
Either.
*
When is it Funny to be a Slave? [Alf]
For God's sake, let us sit in this damned bar and plan a
Worldwide conference, before it's too late.
Let's get the men of the world together
Let's talk about our balls.
You heard me, Alf. Nuts, testicles, cojones
Our lords and masters, from Thermopylae to Guadalcanal
From the football team to Bikini Atoll
Our balls run our brains. A bit of Jupiter Juice in the lower
Regions and suddenly there's swords and blood and history
And evolution running amok.
Yes, the most intellectual of conferences (no women allowed
They have a solution, but you don't want to know. It involves
Doctor's offices, stirrups, and hammers, for a start)
All in a big tent and we'll determine who wants to lead.
We'll ban those bastards, of course, and anyone who
Is willing to fight for the cause.
Have another Guinness, Alf. This is going to take some thought
A whole lot of thought. A whole lot of Guinness.
****
Chapter 30: What is the Experience of Cartoons?
When Lollie entered the room, she fully expected the bartender to hand out Mickey Mouse masks. Not, she thought, that we really need them.
But the bartender was not the same bartender as before. A sleepy gray-haired woman poured Lollie a glass of draft. Lollie held it up to see if it had any bubbles. Just barely. She took her seat at the Usual Table.
Ten minutes later, Alf came in. He brought his beer to the table. "Hi, he said. He set a Daffy Duck mug on to the table and poured his beer into it. "Cheers," he said.
"Cheers. How are you, tonight?"
"Not bad. What happened to our bartender?"
"Beats me. Probably sold our poems for a million bucks and is living in Florida."
"Anything's possible. How's your poetry?"
"Some good, some not so good. Don't particularly like tonight's."
"I'm with you. I've written better. Something about the topic.
Cal and Blossom came up together, carrying their drinks. "What happened to our crazy bartender?" Cal held Blossom's chair for her.
"Don't know. Not sure whether to mourn or cheer. Did you bring a poem?"
"Of course. Not one of my better ones."
Blossom yawned. "We gotta meet earlier in the evening. I'm getting too old for midnight trysts. Maybe I'll take up knitting instead. I imagine knitters get to bed before ten."
"Don't think so." Lollie nodded to the bar. The new bartender was knitting as she watched the TV.
"Damn. Deal."
*
What is the Experience of Cartoons? [Alf]
"Hey!" I said, reaching up to tickle the feet just above me.
"You're not dead yet, are you?" The feet didn't even wiggle but
I continued anyway. "What's the matter, fella? No spidey-silk to
Immobilize the Enemy? No Super-Powers to vanquish legions?"
I squinted in the dry light to the sparse crowd below. The city
Stank, and not just the smoke from Gehenna. Soldiers, bored as
Plowhorses watched the clouds. I continued, eating a sandwich:
"The Hulk could have slaug
htered a few Romans with a timber
That size, you know. Batman, even, would be standing on
Herod's palace, right now, scowling."
A drop of red blood just missed me: I could sell this stuff for
A bundle, I thought, but what the hell.
"You still up there?" I asked. "Fine way to spend a Saturday
Morning. Eh?" I scratched my ribs. Looked around: the other
Two guys were thoroughly dead. Crows picked at their eyes.
"You won't be forgotten," I added. But even a demo of
X-ray vision might have made a difference.
Don't die on me yet: I'm not finished."
But there was nothing I could add. A Superhero either is,
Or isn't. You fight nasty monsters from other galaxies, or
You don't.
This fellow didn't. Two paths diverged on the dusty road to
Jerusalem. Superjew took the one, and that has made all the
Difference.
*
What is the Experience of Cartoons? [Calhoun]
One moment I was singing in the sunshine
The next
Someone drops this house on me
When that happens, you can be quite sure
Some young brat will run up
To steal your ruby slippers
Oh, I'm not bitter
She was young, I was old
And the locals were glad of something
With a prettier face
I don't mind the slippers
But I wish I still had the road
The sunshine
And the road.
*
What is the Experience of Cartoons? [Blossom]
Broom Hilda meets
the Lyin' King?
order another pitcher, Lollie
and one for the guys.
near the end, I used to use the Saturday comics
as liner for the cat box
before he got a chance to see them.
*
What is the Experience of Cartoons? [Lollie]
It seems that
Sylvester the cat and
Wile E. Coyote
Have teamed up
And neither Tweety Bird, nor
Beep Beep
Are answering their phones
I eat my raisin bran
Drink a tea, and contemplate
A large roll of dynamite
On the kitchen table.
****
Chapter 31: Why Do Men Have Nipples?
Lollie sat alone at the Usual Table. The bartender was knitting a sweater. It was more exciting than what was on the television.