“What you see is what you are,”
So I fluttered like a moon-fly with crochet wings
And white elk antennae
Above the Rorschach blotted paper
Run run run
Los Angeles versus sandbag thighs—
The kind they use to tether down and hold open heavy red velvet curtains at the theater.
“There she goes again, out on the streets again.”
But I thought I could fly,
And I thought I could hear the trees whisper as I passed
So, then, I assumed it must’ve been a dream—
A seed planted by yellowing chimney smoke
Curling and spiraling,
A rap-tap-tapping on my windowpane.
Lamentably, I was too shy to let the poor fellow in,
Kind as he may have been,
so he floated up above Eichler roofs and dissipated
As we all will one find day.
He went in elegant fashion into that great void!
I tip my hat to the smokey chap.
And, to circle back to my initial thought: I truly thought I was a moth.
What costume shall I wear to all tomorrow’s parties?
Pull down the shower curtain and fashion it into great big lily petal wings.
I’ll achieve my dream—just you wait!