Win On Diagonals

Renaissance Festival Visit 2    
                              9-4-07 Domenic Maltempi
                                                            We didn’t have enough film
                                                                        To pose dead
                                                                        Each of us once
                                                                        Five times
                                                                        I called over to the jester
                                                            Would he pose with a Russian dancer?
                                                                 He gurgled into a besotted sky
                                                                        Tuxedo, NY
                                                            Out came the antiquated photo-maker
                                                            Captain’s wife posed on a renaissance era wheeled cart
                                                                        Jester examining a large stick by her mouth and neck
                                                                        Writer plays possum by grassy water body
                                                                            Drops expensive audio recorder
                                                                        Recovers device in five minute later panic
                                                                        Damn fortunate I wanted sound issuing
                                                                                    From Maypole dancers
                                                                                    Summer will not sneak around behind your back
                                                                        Summer will fuck your enemy in front of your apartment
                                                                                    As it squeezes songs made out of very old light
                                                                        Onto your gutters, into your unpainted den
                                                                                    Thomas feigned death by axe throwing game stand
                                                                                                Pizza is cold and $4.50 a cut
                                                                                    I say striker
                                                                                                You say matches
                                                                                      H does not participate in staged death pictures
                                                                                    I remember it like yesterday
                                                                                                Jumping into my futures wife’s car
                                                                                    Playing killed in boot of old Dodge
                                                                                                Hair was longer
                                                                                    A different woman’s churlish tongue softly bullying one
                                                                                                Into smashing round object into bell
                                                                                       Surpassing embarrassing representations of one’s physical
                                                                                                                                    Deficiencies
                                                                                                I wanted to do it mentally this time
                                                                                                                       
                                                                                    “You don’t have the equipment.’
                                                                                    “The equipment is coming. It’s on its way, some acumen belonging to me, but                                                                                                 borrowed and traveling like everything merciful, coming through when
                                                                                                            needed.”
                                                                                                “Traveling?”
                                                                                    “Sure, wait, here, maybe not all, yes all. Here are my two dollars.”
                       
                                                                                                Her flippancy now turning me on, turning me in on myself
                                                                                                            Sterling National Park…there