poem for a new show at the Grey Gallery

±∞±

SOTO: Paris and Beyond

Let’s pretend Bernie didn’t smoke no bush when he was on leave in Germany. 
Let’s act like Jonny isn’t the prodigal heir apparent to a man re-born after he couldn’t get off the sour nipple. 
Let’s see if Anthony fucking that tumbleweed during his punk years fucks with Mikey being able to make sense of numbers and making money.
Let’s hear what that prophet is smacking himself about.

Let’s pretend green is green before and after the weather.
Let him speak his native tongue punctuated by snarling jimmied lips and fish
around the well of apostrophized apostates. 
Let’s see if Sid knows the difference between here and nowhere.
Let’s hear the sirens and only see the markings – hollow out their history.

Spin and mix and tell me where you end up.
Look behind and everything’s down. 
Let it come out and freeze it where it lies.
Get back to me when you have the answer.

Let’s replay that scene of only images punctuated by violent bile and sparkly capital.
Let’s keep playing the game where the loser jumps into the river.
See what happens when Robbie doesn’t know Gwennie and the only thing keeping their eventualities together is the promised emancipation for future histories.
Follow the parallels and wait for them to line up.

Jackie, Chris, Teddy, Danny, Andy, Carlos, Billy and Bennie were all there. 
Don’t tell me it didn’t happen.

Look at that boy there,
he has no idea. 
Look at yourself,
see it’s the same.

•