Swagazine Six

Ricky Garni -- A Perfect Day

when I looked into the sky I saw the planet venus way up high about as
far as I can see without straining my neck

I was looking out the kitchen window and admiring the summer
in all its majesty and nakedness and I was wearing a pair of
black-soled utility boots with snuggly yellow cotton socks on
underneath

my undershirt was the color of flowers

my pants were revolutionary in design

my underpants were striped and I bought them on sale

sometimes I would hang them on a chair and my head would
stare at them and start to drop, stare at them and
start to drop

and I was about to make pancakes and listen to pretty classical piano melodies

each pancake would be composed in the shape of a different presidentís head and I thought that I would start out with grover cleveland

and drink a full bottle of raveneau chablis...mmm, yummy! and open
the refrigerator door ten times in a row and slam it every time shut
and say slam slam slam

and I would sing each time: "frauen wie lauten" (women like lutes...)

and draw a picture of a plate on the table the size of an apple pie pan

and draw a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice

and a television set with a word balloon coming out of it that says:
"In the news today"

and then I could say outloud: "what? what?"

the next pancake would be lincoln

there is an eternal home that I am near. I am not hungry there. oh my
god! what if I donít like pancakes there, now this could be bad,
possibly, said lincoln

if I changed my mind, I would do it. I remembered how

once I was full completely and I could listen to my tree that I put in
my kitchen. of course it is not saying anything, it just have leaves
that fall down in the kitchen and make a little noise once in a while

the holly lights the living room and the syrup is in the fridge and it
is cold and frosty and yummy and content

the jasmine smells beautiful as it wafts through the kitchen but the
kitchens that have jasmine wafting through them are in northern
california which is three thousand miles away

the doctor says, this world is called discovering america

the syrup is called a live-in lover

on the cover of popular mechanics is a picture of a bright red heart

and I am now on my hands and knees and I am drawing a picture
of a woman with the face that says, quite simply, cri de coure

remaking the world, I think

I unbutton my shirt so I can feel the splendor of pancakes. it is so
quiet this morning outside and in. the music is the only sound, but it
is so quiet I canít tell if there is any at all.

I misspell it

and when I hear a knock on the door and I ask "who" it is and a voice
says "what" I quickly reply:

"we donít want any"




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