Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Noisy Whispers and Other Judgements of Quiet People

“Femme assise (Sitzende Frau)” by Pablo Picasso (1909)

It is dark and humid and full of people talking
Laughter is alarming until the subject for humour becomes clear
I make my way through the boulevard of people squashed between the bannisters and the bar
There's a menu that I'll flip through, but I already know what I need
I'll just get four pillars actually, thanks
I have absolutely no idea what will go into the architecture of the intoxication
Better as a secret
I’ll devour down my throat another twelve pillars in the same glass poured into, on three
Different intervals
I’ll have an apple cider for now

My throat has never been this dry before there is a drought I’m struggling to breathe through
Where is the saliva
The river supposed to flow regardless of request
My body is full of disappointment and unreliable
Now enlisted on the hunt for water
The same lot of people hog onto the jug and they seem especially eager to fill their bladders 
Where is the notch on the bladder that marks the foreshadowing of the burst
In reality, relief flows
In a stream    

My eyes are drawn to the woman who sits alone with a cigarette 
I can’t tell what she is looking at but I wonder what it is
If she is judging someone and I am judging her
Who’s judging me
The bar is a landmark for conversation and I am or have a good chance of entering
Those petty discussions
Are interesting, only when they crown the protagonist
Coloured bottles are enshrined on the hierarchy of the shelves
Their labels are their identity 
Art can be poisonous when it chooses to be