Friends From the Past

Painting by Salvador Dali


Friends from the Past


i feel like the head of john the baptist
brought in upon the platter of the sixties.
"but i'm not that way now," I tell them.
"of course you are," they say.
they kiss my lips and wait for prophecies.
i was a prophet then.
now i don't know anything.
"i can't even predict the present."
"who needs it?"
"i do," i tell them and turn and flee,
the beatles baying at my heels,
bob dylan running ahead of the pack
brandishing a broken tambourine like excalibar.
i fall.
they swarm over me.
bob dylan beheads me with the broken tambourine
which they then set my head on.
they kiss my dead lips and wait expectantly.
resigned, I open my mouth and prophecies emerge,
urgent messages bearing yesterday's headlines.

Albert Huffstickler



from Crimson Leer, 3rd issue, 1996, Fabius NV
Posted over on Waterways