Thursday, December 13, 2007

Belles of Lolita


Not long ago,
traveling clear across Texas,
love blossomed
like a five-petaled desert flower,
cactus poppy-red
against a perfect azure sky;
with that new car smell thick,
as Southwestern highways
whirled hot beneath
our rims.

We halted one afternoon
on a Bracketville plain,
perched atop an artificial Alamo,
built by John Wayne
better than the original,
that was far off and buried sad
amongst indifferent taller buildings...
on a movie ranch,
gazing at a movie town,
strangely familiar from my frenzied dreams
branded latigo from a dozen westerns,
chameleon like,
changing its look around
every corner,
shimmering ersatz,
toe-deep in actual Texas dust.

Clinging to fake ramparts,
still posturing
for the wraith cameras,
straining to see
the spirit of Duke
gliding warm over the backs
of longhorns.

I glanced down
at the Dodge mini-van
shiny blue below me,
with four lovely belles clustered
by its sliding door,
building fat sandwiches
from out of a camping cooler,
and although it was probably
too soon,
I felt
that this was my new family,
that they were
my girls.

While I watched,
balanced delicately between
cardiovascular and celluloid icons,
clutching tightly to a plaster parapet,
a synthesis
and all of them were cast
in starring roles
in my new movie,
with me riding high above
on a Loma crane,
as writer,director,
and supporting actor.

Glenn Buttkus 1993

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