TROUT   [ 2 ]

  Only in American (three cities)

Students of the deep image are comparing notes
about the executions, but this is my private
terracotta tongue not the juice of American
flags and not the impulse of flight that squeezes.
Thereís nowhere to leave.
Death rowís sealed stars.
Watch that tv making trouble. Its flickering gasp.
Feed your eyes into the slotworld or get
on the bus and penetrate.
Under the roulette arc of the moon tall stalks
speak for themselves.

So get a grip. Cut short
your days at the voodoo factory. This is a special
day granted so that we can for once find comfort
in the radio dial spinning till it stops and talks
to you. But youíve relaxed
like a cynical old pro
asleep at the wheel.
This cityís earsplitting smell will guide you.
Here are some civil liberties
and here is
Itís up to you.
If you canít decide then suck
a gauntlet of shadows. Heartbeat size the city looks
like a proposition of animal magnitude.
Lick the pillow and turn
to your casual enemies who in turn say,
"Just as Rome wasnít built in a day so Dresden
was burnt overnight."

We heard that the singer had some business
in the mountains. Clear air to goggle the pixie
nimbus, the guillotine slides and after a rushed
dessert weíll pass the brass pot from the shoulders
of the riotous supporters.
Then they beg with you for difference, but
Iím on the balustrade to significant joy and youíre
standing in one spot till it stains. You & I.
Two faced. Get it? With both tongues?
Itís like some people go sky-diving and piss
and some people command dogs.
Letís climb out in Spanish. The warders are stunned
stupid waiting for the trick wedding
to pass them by.
And we are racketeering a near-life experience
but still taking part in the sway towards Jerusalem.

—Simon Field
   © 1997