But I got to walk to the reading past a block full of wisteria trees and lilac bushes and ornamental cherries. O delicious people who own entire Chelsea rowhouses; the richness of your spirit -- long-nourished by your ability to afford track-lighting, chrome fixtures, and landscaping -- can only be imagined, but poorly, by those as afflicted as me.
Standing-room only by the time I showed up, to hear ribald tales of love-in-rugs, of fascists who hold dinner parties for fall guys, of priests with unique vows, and of repeated interruptions. Then questions were taken, and they tended to either be "Is it true that . . .," or "insert lengthy and somewhat academic point here."
Then it was over and I used my mighty and lawyerly powers of aggression to get relatively high up in the book-signing line. That done, I chatted for a bit with Gary and Shanna and then took off into the night, stopping to buy a big old chunk o' cake from Billy's Bakery. Pretty good, but not as good as mom's. Much better than those Italian pasty shops, though, where everything looks fantastic, but tastes like plastic. Bleh! Plastic.
Today I took a Michael Schiavo poem ran it through Babelfish, translated it into Russian, and then wrote a new poem out of it. Huzzah.
The New Switcheroo
What's better
than familiar terrain turned
stranger?
First you ask
why the magazine racks
have flip-booked
out of the den, why
the dish of walnuts
has turned to burnished clay.
But then you get comfy,
get to liking
the barn swallows
instead of canaries.
When they sing, it's Mahler.
There's food, too.
There's wives and salves
and well-worn Bibles.
They're all yours now.
Meanwhile, who's busy
being the old and wifeless
you? Nibbling walnuts.
Reading People. Asking canaries
what they think
about painting the mantel green.
[UPDATE: Remember how I was whining about the blatant racism of The Japanese Lovers? Well, the unruly servant found another racist poem, and I think this one is making fun of Norskies! Or Italians? I can't even tell!]
[UPDATE UPDATE: Italians, I think. I got confused with all the snow. Here's everyone's favorite silly Norskie "poem."]
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