Babble

Lauren’s told more than once

about the grossly overpriced dessert she had

that visually resembled a sewer pipe spilling muck.

The story flits to mind on a day like many others

as I walk up Sutter from where it begins

in stinking puddles in the gutters by Sees Candies.

With my walking rhythm, an air come to me from

 “that infernal nonsense Pinafore,” (a line from Penzance).

It curls into my lungs and hums me up the street.

In this becoming, I notice how all expressions

paisley out tendrillously. Le Petomane wowed

audiences in France by farting musically. Spike Milligan

referred to him and in turn inspired

the record by Elvis Costello.

I hum the song “Veronica,” in the elevator

while checking for an email from

the artist Veronica de Jesus.

I’m ten toes wriggling in a stream,

curls and eddies of earthborn creatures. We’re
prone to wild variation in our expressing—and we think

tropical birds dazzling in their dances.

All this manifestation lives, whirls...

Let’s pretend Google

is the Platonic ideal of Google

and all the marks reality expresses

are searchable, clickable to recall. There,

that’s what this is: fascination.

Human League.