If there wasn’t this interference
I could make myself perfectly clear
and the one who wants such clarity
would certainly be happy
if statues could be happy
and maybe they can (laughter)
because each one of us has to
identify with a statue sometimes
(or else there’d be no couples)
and even the lowliest among us
(I say, as if with all the authority
of experience behind me)
have to be happy sometimes
and who’s to say it isn’t
the statue part of us which feels such joy?
Well, me, but I too am another statue
(of a pigeon that shits on a statue)
and am only part of you if the sky is,
and it is, it is, and speculation
is this interference. But it’s also Saturday.
Listen, children, all is not lost
and clear interference reminds me
that one can be drunk on soberness
and yesterday’s desperate desire
to be simple again is, no doubt,
around here somewhere,
even if I am a crook.