Archive
06/06/09
Rummaging
My annual trek, this sunny Saturday afternoon, To the Webster Groves Art & Air Fair Had all the past trappings of mild excitement Fused with the anticipation of finding something superfluous, Beautifully useless, wholly unbidden, adventitious, Lacking in every aspect of necessity's pragmatic touch. Indeed, it had all the familiar joie de vivre, That liberated, carefree feeling Of being in another time and space, not daily reality, Populated with paintings, photographs, jewelry, glass, Sculpture, pottery, decorated gourds — A labor-of-love, made-by-hand cosmos That has no place in the world of commerce, politics, Certainly not in the military-industrial complex, And yet, miraculously, possesses a sui generis relevance Recalling those of us in attendance to our primal origins — Those inchoate dreams, transcending our great-ape mentalities, That beg release from our impassioned imaginations. Now that the fair has ended, Having invested me with the irrepressible compulsion To rummage through brimming tented booth after booth, I ask myself what it was I was really looking for And realize, now, it was something I'll never again locate: The lady who, for the last six years, accompanied me to the fair.
06/06/09 - (2)
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