Last week, she lugged hundreds of cassettes
up the stairs from the basement,
and
down to the alley for the trash.
She is reading a novel about the Visceral Realists,
they are artists who have telekinesis.
They are poets with a sexual appetite for revolution.
She crouched in the alley way to find
( 2 ) two cassette tapes
as a memento for herself before walking back inside,
and forgetting the whole thing.
She thought about attachment and how it is not good for her health.
The two mementos:
"Whatta Man," by Salt 'N' Pepa
"Into the Great Wide Open" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.
She put the tapes in their cardboard sleeves
onto the lazy Susan spice rack in the
cupboard.
It means nothing.
Unless she would like to believe
that the drawings
and the invisible (power) lines among artists
carry the power of metaphysics.
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1 comment:
non-attachment is hard to let go of. [insert pun groan here]
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