Art Teasin' Well

(Another fragment from "Reports from the Frontal Lobe".)

Things are realer. More solid. More natural in some way. Picasso painted truth that lies there waiting to be seen but not heard of much since mums the word. A Kentucky Mummy Fried up the leftovers and sucked all the loose change from behind the couch cushions along with some popcorn and two buttons that look like Bozo’s. The clowns are coming out of the wood work. The news is wrapped in crown molding as paranoia about handshakes and smiles as weakness is spoken from a place of confusion and fear. Ex marks the spot on the map in Capitol City where tourists shutter and snap somewhere between the checklist and the starting gate. So pony up, boys and girls, and get a hitch in your get along. Why can’t we all just get along?

Step right up, yowsa, yowsa, yowsa. The truth may be out there but the show’s on the insides. Check out some books from the Library of Congress if you dare the fees and can fit through the loopholes that mask the real deal. Alice says to cut the cards and read to her. So I read and write and right and left a lot on the stairway to heaven. The Devil and Me and Mrs. Jones got a thing going on. Master of disaster is a whirlygig away from the bite of the blade. Bend Me, Shape Me, pick up your room, and put it in the forest for all the creatures to see. Howl at the moon but don’t speak with your mouth full. Spring has sprung so unlock that jaw cause here it is. I heard the bell above the door when it entered. Thanks for shopping with us. Come again…and again…and again. The eye teeth see anew. Tomorrow arrived a day early and I didn’t see it coming. See you soon. Ya’ll come back now, hear?

I feel it as my thoughts round the bend and head for home base with my elephant ears flapping in the wind. Punch lines process differently since foundations have shifted and values changed and dollars make less sense. How I feel about things as they happen changed as well since they happen regardless of how I feel about them. Much less anxiousness about being clueless and between something that has yet to show up on the treasure map that beats between my chest and that place that has a mind of its own. Tween. A tweener. Somewhere between what I was and what I become. Things are tween. Far from what they were and far to go to what they shall be. The compass points up, the stairs curve to the right, and mirrors are at high tide.

Tickets, please. Take your place on the wall. Places, everyone. Places. All the pretty maids, all in a row. Made you look. Made you look. Made you steel for your mother’s pocketbook. Girders and garters and panties of lace. Lace ‘em up and lace up tight, Pilgrim. One pill makes you smarter and one pill makes you late. Sooner or later is better than never. Save me an aisle seat. Bottoms up. Who put this gum here? Bite me.