Flashmob

 

Schrecksee 30 x 30 cm acryl/gouache on cotton rag paper by Karin Goeppert

HELLAS (1)

Nervous Greek toilet: delicate

as a maiden aunt’s

belly, hardly able

to keep anything down.

The plumber you sent for

several hours if not

days ago

lured into a card game

at the harbor

finally shows up

with a bag full of excuses

and a few old tools.

And he would say—if he bothered

to explain but certainly not justify

an existence as self-evident

and deserving as his own—

“I am what I am.”

As much Popeye as Zorba,

he scratches his seven day beard.

Almost scratches his balls

before noticing the presence of a female.

Thinks he knows exactly

how to extract what he wants

from what you have.

Your “secretary,” for example.

Turn your back for five seconds

he’s fingering her hemline,

admiring the “material,”

her hands in the air

flapping helplessly

as if trying to dry nail polish.

Human nature or whatever

you want to call it has room

here to stretch,

scratch a musky armpit, sigh,

reach across the table—

a rickety affair, beer coaster

stuck under one wobbly, too short leg—

and grab a few more olives.