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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.