Archive
07/08/08 - (2)
Gunga Galunga
This ninety-two-degree July Tuesday night, It's highly likely, exceedingly conceivable, indeed, That my Voltaire- and Diderot-reasonable psyche has flown the coop,
Lost its way, in migratory flight, Much like the passenger pigeon and dodo bird, Whose historically recorded plights descended into extinction.
On the other, third, hand of my fabled juggling minstrel band From West Upper Ben-Deezing's Jungles of Jorn, It could just be that my sensibility is snoozing, zzz-ing, slumbering,
Sleeping it off, after a three-week bender Spent carousing, senselessly, on the sands of southern France, With Chagall and Picasso, Nicole and Dick Diver, Tom and Daisy —
Oh, you know, Cap d'Antibes, Saint-Paul de Vence, Nice, Cannes, Juan-les-Pins, Those and other James Bond playgrounds of the rich and evil...
Oh, you know, those Cold War Ernst Stavro Blofelds, Francisco Scaramangas, Max Zorins, Dr. Nos, Auric Goldfingers, Mr. Bigs, Hugo Draxes, Kamal Khans.
Whoa, boy! Slow down! Pull up! Cool it, Brodsky! Get a grip on yourself. Take stock. Size up your possibilities. Try to assess your diminishing capability's prophecy.
OK, so let's pretend that this sweltering Tuesday night in July Is a virtual game of Clue And that you're Professor Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, in the chamber pot,
With the Baby Ruth bar from Caddyshack's Bushwood C.C., Or Ty Webb, getting laid, on Judge Smails' sailboat, Using his prow, on that oh-so-hot-to-trot vixen, Lacey Underall,
And, now, the Vietnam War–deranged greenskeeper, Carl Spackler, Accosts you, with a proposition to eradicate gophers, If only you'll buy into his audience with the Dalai "Lamma,"
Which you do, you, who've just recently lost your way, Conceded that logic doesn't work in a Dubya-deconstructed universe, In a cosmos where even Godot and Joseph K. are irrelevant,
You, who dig Carl's ability to blow up gophers in their holes, Despite destroying the entire nouveau WASP world's golf course. Tonight, strange as it seems, even to you,
It's just possible that you've received "gunga galunga," Reached the outer approaches to "total consciousness," Righted your "Wrong Way" Corrigan flight of fantasy's fancy,
And arrived at peace of mind with your scattered senses, Rectified your disillusioned belief in right reason, And accepted your destiny, as a resurrected passenger dodo.
07/08/08 - (2)
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