Dreamed 2009/9/16 by Wayan
I clutch a clod of chocolate clad
in purple glitterfoil.
I love true bitterpure cacao,
but this is a milked and sugared
jag-asteroid of oil. Yet...
I peel and gnaw this crag too sweet
We unavoidably block a few trains,
just a meter high. Well, not true snows,
just glued fine-shredded corporate memos.
It's far too warm and stuffy
for truth in this overlit lobby.
The Teller stretches her rangy legs
She speaks of a newly minted clutch
Our endangered polar pack
of secular saints now chilly stands
--O glum clump o' chumps!--
in a blizzard on a white-out curb
in some megalopolic Yankee slurb.
Forepaws flail, through sleet they bellow,
But cabbies all figger these shivering buggers
You know their tale will end in froze.
For haven't we heard this hoary story?
Or Little Match Girl, its grandforemother.
Although these corporate waifs have more
insulation--sans thumbs or toes,
Feh. They're stories. Can't say I care.
Inept guys, stage/dais, climate: Last night I saw a comedy trio at the tiny Climate Theater in San Francisco. Most of the audience loved them, but I felt the climax (admittedly funny--a heckler in the audience becomes part of the plot) wasn't worth the long, long setup where they need to be bad enough to justify the heckling. They weren't bad enough to be good. Brilliantly portraying dullness is still dull. After all, I can see stupid on the street for free. It's intelligent I want to see.
Eating adulterated chocolate when I only like the real thing: to me their humor felt as calculatedly adulterated as most American "chocolate" (everything but!) Since I'd paid for my ticket, I just sat there and consumed filler and sweetener...
Miniature railroads: I admit the comedians did Shy Male Geek quite well. The kind of geek who builds miniature railroads into whole empires in the basement. I should know; I was one. Too close to home for me to see as funny? Could be.
Stuffy corporate lobby: the theater really was hot and airless. Maybe the real reason I couldn't work up a laugh was CO2 poisoning. Maybe those guys were original.
Yeah, and I'm a polar bear.
This is Poem #54 in the Dreamverse Project.
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