NEEDLING

The boy who cried WOLF
from the steeples
from the balconies
from the way back fauteuils
from the red velvet second story
of the theater...

(I meant: ‘FIRE’)

“FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE!!!” he yelled.

Was trying for the old trick
the old never polished brick
the red earthy ones which always work
no matter the wall
no matter the house
no matter the size of the hole
no matter the skeleton
skipping out from the closets merely singing
skeleton songs
bony tempting songs reminiscing the once was
of a colorful past life entertained in songs
you’d like now to forget no matter what...

WHITE POWDERED STRENGHT OF FLOWERS

no matter the rot to be covered
no matter the lies to be smothered
no matter the sickness to be beautified
no matter what they always work
and cover the wall
with a new wall
blocking the view of the old wall
the one we wanted to hide.

Hiding a wall with a wall
of a different size
and a different name
and a different scheme
of different supposedly necessary different words
and problems invented on the spot
creating inertia and movement
all on its own
while we forget all together the old
WALL
(the one we wanted to take down
but have now forgot.)

“FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE!!!” he yelled.

And it worked
back door farewell slip away
grown tired of the refrain.

And it worked
the crowd mollified stampede feed
trying all to fit through the front door
all at once

while the boy slips out
the back door
farewell way
pulling a jimmy on the spectators
of the show.

(To explain – in simpler terms –
the boy who cried
had been far too long
in the limelight
much more than the show
going on
on stage...
          and he wanted OUT...)