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Tablecloths for Masterwork Paintings
This is somewhat made to go along with my other poem of similiar title--Masterwork Paintings for Tablecloths. Whereas in that work, I dealt with the message of "better" things in life being ignored or underrated, here in this work, I deal with"lesser" things being made to be liked or overrated.
Tablecloths for Masterwork Paintings
Debalanced, he skids an elbow at a yellow
paint line, echoing affliction over parked
vehicles. He thence turns waist and identifies
the perpetrator; a tube quivers from a source
unidentified. Bewilder'd, he ambulates along
the tube, t'ward an emergency stair door.
The hinges thirst WD-40. Along the steps
sprawls a rooted sofa with a Fox Network-
enthusiast family leaning together with lock-
jaw smiles. The tube forks into octopus legs
with mouth piece ends. Before them, static
materializes into a gold dust settling out from
the screen like due upon a dawn's Maple leaf.
[The dust is collected and pre-packaged
into Pixy Stix straws.] Synchronously, they
sprinkle the treat over their tongue and blow
it through their assign'd mouth pieces. More-
so intrigued, the onlooker regresses t'ward
the opposite end and discovers amongst
an oil puddle, a flatten'd figure expanding.
A woman! The end connects a tracheostomy
tube. She expands into a palm-to-hip fashion
pose and grows a smile. Her dress is an oil-
sop'd paper bag on paper bag fragranced
with a heavy mold. The scent unhitches car
doors. At once, beings sleep-walk (with must-
have-it gestures) toward the inflated female.
