Chicano Poet

Friday, May 27, 2005

This Ain’t No Disco

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
for Sherman, of course,
could do neither.

If history came back,
you could not fool him,
handle on the Waybac machine

bears his young
and old fingerprints,
his heart the scars

of battles waged and lost,
his heart the joy of battles won.
Ah, you finally found me out,

yes, I’m the narrator (M. Bones).
Cracking the truth and jokes,
distinguished by not being different.

Sherman is holding hands
with the cicada girl
in the shade of the campus trees.

It is springtime at Whattsamatta U.,
the equinox knocks
and the drawbridge

comes down over the moat.
Sherman has the remote in his hands,
they enter the castle in Lucy’s sky.

Later that night the Waybac machine
is blinking and blinking
against the wall of the mall.

Sherman puts on his boxer shorts,
stumbles around in the dark,
hits the wrong button on the machine.

Was that America that he smeared
with the wrong goo
Professor Peabody thought he discarded?

But, as they say, love conquers all
and Sherman stares in the cicada girl’s eyes,
his Coke bottle glasses tumbling in ahead of him.

2 Comments:

At 10:02 AM, Anonymous Cgirl said...

I love: the paradox of "distinguished by not being different" and holding "the remote in his hands." Fate fools us or is it we who fool ourselves? (sorry, for being sappy.)
I also feel the loneliness in the image of the waybac machine "blinking and blinking" on the "wall of the mall."
Then the "equinox knocks," keeps it all from being overly serious.

 
At 10:52 AM, Blogger RC said...

I should have put teenage mall girls next to the blinking Waybac machine.I missed my chance.

 

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