Barbarians

Pirouette 50 x 50 cm acryl on canvas by Karin Goeppert

BARBARIANS AT THE GARDEN GATE

In my dream are lines of coke.

In the old fashioned bottles.

Who can resist coke in the old fashioned bottles?

And castle dungeons with wall-to-wall

and big soft pillows plus baby oil  

or one of those Majorcan golf courses complete

with slender girl caddies in Catalonian attire—

but there are huge speakers out of which

ooze the greatest hits of Wham! which makes

me want to track down and punish the deejay—

plus car sickness and enhanced coercion: “If you

don’t shut up we won’t stop for tapas.” In other

words, the perks and ills of civilization. So I depart this dream

and welcome other barbarians, dinner guests,

visiting relatives, bullying past Maginot lines

of good behavior—bilious, looking like shit

after a day long ride, demanding alcohol and salty snacks.

Later, stepping out into the yard to smoke a joint, I’m

hoping for a vision of freedom, but all I can see is the back fence.