Plain American Language

I cut a sliver/of WC William's finger
and placed it inside/my philosophy...

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Under a Gigantic Memorial for the Carabineros de Chile, Santiago, #45

This city is so empty. Six p.m., no,
that's a lie, almost seven
on a Friday. It's February,
summer vacation, the beach-week
when you can afford it
and the time. The shade is glorious
under this thing, though
the marble is as hot as the sun
and anyway it's not of much consequence
because the people are gone,
not concentrating on shade
but sun and how it bronzes the skin
instead of baking it like a pastel de choclo.

And so what's there to notice now that everyone's away
besides the immensity of this monument
the taste of watermelon (which I don't like)
and grapes (which I do)
some good coffee & cream
that I'm still slightly swallowing.
And the shade
& the large Bayer sign across the street
the sun
and summer traffic that goes swoosh
like a blown paper, loose leaf.

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