There’s A Big Moon Over Brooklyn Tonight
There’s a big moon over Brooklyn tonight, big as Dino’s pizza. There’s an angel over Dino’s shoulder, she’s wearing diamond rings. An angel with a raincoat on, though the moon is shining, she’s smoking menthol cigarettes. She’s got a bag full of money between her bright bright wings. There’s another one between her thighs.
A ritual is a sacrifice. A ritual is life. A man’s life is a myth, a moment in time, and there is history to be learned from lives, even the life of Dino’s Angel. Ants eat peonies, men fall on their knees. Pineapples can make a vagina taste sweet. A man is a myth, but a prudent man will not let a dog lick his face. You can get worms that way.
I am a prudent man. I do not covet my neighbor’s wife. I do not covet my neighbor’s house. I do not covet my neighbor’s man-servant nor his ox nor manuscript. Nor his donkey. I do not even covet the shield of Ajax, made by Tukhios, or the making of that shield. I covet Dino’s Angel.
Hummingbirds fly backwards. Bumble bees can’t fly at all. But a moth will fly straight up your nose if you don’t watch out.
Waiter waiter what’s this fly doing in my soup?
Drowning with Odysseus
-George Wallace
Photographs Poetry