Page 60 - WTP Vol. VII #1

Orozco and the Disco Queen
In the basement of the big library next door/ the Orozco murals come alive/ and talk to the ghosts of Wheelocks and Websters past. They peer in the windows of your dreary kitchen and tell you not to waste your time dedicating all your damn poems. The dead don’t care/ the living don’t notice.
Your kitchen poems always burn anyway/ the smell gets caught in your hair. Tonight each word gets a quick microwave minute. You are addicted to the cheap cook of the microwave. Once you thought you could kill yourself by holding your breath. You woke up in a hospital with big dark ants crawling up the walls/ argued your way out and flew back to America the next morning. You went straight from the airport to fill up a shopping cart in the harsh rectangle bright yellow cat-eye supermarket/ you inhaled so sharply the label flew off the can you were holding
right into your mouth. It tasted like wood and like melting. You can have anything you want/ the ghosts said, so you danced all night at the disco party and then took a beautiful stranger back to your basement room. Of course, the Wheelock and Webster ghosts looked away politely but
the Orozco mural ghosts danced right through you. 53
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