Just mowing the grass
on a hot humid
smog smothered
shad fly infested
mosquito plagued
afternoon can wreck
any argument for doing it
the shad crawling
trapped between
my lenses and my face
leaves specks on my specs
and sweat runs
tracks on my back
myriad mosquitoes
land feed and inject their
poisonous itching fluids
and convince me
winter has its graces
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and he opened his eyes
to see a broad river
whose water gleamed swirled jade
and amethyst, garnet and sapphire
he turned his back on it
and looked to the rude mud huts
that stood nearby
and with his inner eye
he saw gleaming towers
that would rise here
and he commanded
that it should be so
and when the towers
had been constructed
he turned again towards the water
and there in its place
was a cracked bed of mud.
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Of course the title
of this piece
depicts a nightmare:
you have been heading for an
appointment with somebody
important
(like St. Peter at the Pearly gates?)
and you realize
people are looking at you and
you are in the mall
naked
(like swimming under water against the deadly undertoad?)
but consider this:
(voiceover: a la Rod Serling . . .)
an anonymous but thoughtful man
walks in a large upscale mall
in the centre of a very busy downtown.
he observes the wide variety
of dress worn by women
he wonders what motivated them
why some are dressed
as if they were in the middle of
cleaning the oven and had to
get down to the mall
for some extra J-Cloths™
some as if they just stepped out
of their Cover Girl™ shoot
some as if they are headed
for an interview as the new
CEO of Exxon™
some as if they had
just temporarily abandoned
a medieval cloister
and some as if
they were going to bust
Mr. T™ on the nose
and he wonders
what difference it would make
if appearance were irrelevant
and we were all
naked at the mall
(end, Serling voiceover)
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