American Royalty/It’s Nice To Own A Maserati
I can point at everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
perfect in instants, this realization is fleeting—
before the gasps in the streets, last night, I was
nestled between the hills, houses lurked, spewing
shapes and crescent moons across the highways, there were dinosaurs,
walking on stilts and elephants being chased by mice
so I picked them up in a spoon, plucked the milk out of my breakfast cereal,
and dumped them into the bowl, where they all scattered around and wove between the cheerios and the porcelain, heating it until it
melts off the table and falls on the floor, upside down, shattering
itself like a potted plant and reforming in an instant.
I pick it up, and it has become a mask, and a parade grows out of the hole the bowl made in the floor.
The mask goes on, and I am enveloped by a red cushion at the head of a miles-long parade of toys and toothbrushes, false idols, a stream of objects I can never remember
carried forth through the white wastelands inside my own head.
“Stop, stop, you speak of nothing!”
But nothing exists—nothing is the existing form of the formless to have a “nothing” one must create something and I speak, of dreams, Of some thing given birth by nothingness, why do they have the right to exist? Why does the fabled Queen of beetles come forth upon our noses, bringing to life our memories and great desires? But dreams—
Dreams exist to show us our own potential, the limits, of what we have we imagined it, and it was created
“Where did you come up with that idea?”
“It came to me in a dream.”
“This city subsists on dreams.”
You can see them, walking Hollywood boulevard, starving for attention
they haunt the surf shops in Venice the houses of small photographers and the mansions of the actors, swaggering through the parties lord, they come here to live and die they change,
they get smaller, bigger, they are inconstant but enduring things
you see that?
It’s the star! O! gorgeous, who are you working with?
Send my regards to your father for the limo—yes you too, kiss me…”
but we weave our way in and out,
I touch, the faces of my fathers and I say look,
I’m living my dreams—-I found it, what I need to do
I’m happy, so, so happy—this is how men like us live, isn’t it?
Burning fuel until we drop dead the wild, shapeless cosmonauts adrift in the open ocean we shift
for nothing, but the tossing tides bidding us onward, onward, onward
towards those islands, toward the mirage
of the future self with money, fame, women it’s
what I need„,I need„,I have
always needed I know
I cannot hesitate
I cannot stop pushing because I
need this If
I fail, I will die when my name is spoken for the last time I will
finally pass from this earth but I will walk it
for centuries my dream, will hang
like a billboard over sunset and my body will dangle from it on the film screens I will be
remembered, and wander these streets in the whispers the
closed lips and pictures of
reflected sunglasses and storefronts I did it,
father, my mirror says—
it says ‘I love you’
for the first time, ‘I love you’
and I expect his head to twirl around like a top because,
no one loves you they don’t
dream about you I set
aside the camera years ago
let’s take one,
take one for the two of us, huh? what do you say— thanks, perfect.
Look at me now,
what I’ve always wanted. I can reach out and touch the shower, the fucking
gold faucets and the marble of the floors and counter the model with my grandmonther’s ring
my ring on her finger
but I speak
I’ve seen them walk out and now they dance for me
along the banisters they walk
along my fingertips I can sew them into little eyeballs and faces and paint them into the walls and then they start to move, they close in,
tigers spring out into my living room and great butterflies sit upon the couches and we all march on
behind the red parade spreading out inside us laughing
as we walk forth into the waking spaces—
hey, hey….did you see them too?
They all just
turned to dust.