Drink to forget (maybe Sunday)

Back to Yoon Yong, now nearing the end. We found Yoon Yong last time, riffing on marriage. Now she’s drunk.

Drink to forget (maybe Sunday)
 
…That evening | walking down a busy road | enjoying
the cool air discouraging the heat of the day
 
but never quenching it & flanked
by orange groves | in the drainage ditch
 
near a dark culvert | a pig skeleton | bleached
& patched with mold | patina of pine needles
 
& a chocolate bar wrapper caged in the ribs |
pocked with crow pecks | the pelvis snapped free 
 
of the spine | the cranium dented & cracked
—this was important once: it fed someone |
 
brought happiness & people communed around it
for warmth & comfort.
 
A tabby cat’s bright eyes fed by the dark | she makes
a pppppphhhsssssss to frighten it away
 
from the bleached bones that belong to her figure of speech 
—I’ve always hated cats | I identify
 
all my worst characteristics with them
& in my rebellion | in my misguided
 
effort to stem their effect | I have translated
them into the feline’s tarty motive & motion
 
: a hodgepodge transference.
I’m no better than people with a deep seated fear of dogs |
 
the roots of which are the will to conquer nature.
Groups of girls | dressed in their own clothes
 
which amounts to a uniform
“somehow talk at length without saying anything.
 
—technology has arranged the world in such
a fashion that you don’t have to experience it...”
 
 
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8 Comments

        1. That would be funny if the ontological entanglement occurred via the categorical imperative in his “Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals”: you act so morally that people enact the same moral actions at the exact moment you enact your own! You drop change into a charity box in England while some random person in Japan drops change onto the ground and has no idea why…

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