wants to hear any more about it,
itís as if a passenger jet had
flown in one ear
and out the other. Itís all in bad taste.
And nobody wants to talk about itÖ
except that the tongue falls out, dangling like a
beam knocking against crumbling chunks of wordsÖ
And all this after having been trained to admire
Daliís melting watches?
So whatís wrong with an aluminum plane
melting into a
Into a touristís image of Manhattan? a cheap souvenir?
it was only an illusion,
special effects, wasnít
Those towers werenít real in the first place, they
something to put into French movies
with a Manhattan locale like the
Eiffel Tower is thrown
Hollywood film taking place in Paris.
They were just an emblem, and a cheap one too, so who
But if you still
must get sick over it, call it
Godís punishment on a sinful
home to roost, and all the rest.
Hang a guilt trip over it and you wonít see it any
It was the
fault of everyone around you, wasnít it?
So why should you care? Because it is September the
thousand and one?
Performance art thatís proving Manhattan to be unreal,
a mere fantasy, a capitalist
It didnít happen, I donít want to talk about it,
letís change the
and if it did happen it didnít happen to us,
it happened to Morgan
Stanley and the Lehman Brothers,
not to us. And they had it coming to them, but not us.
of us. But not you and me;
what did we do wrong? I cannot talk about it.
Pockets of jet fuel are still smoldering in my
was my fault.
Maybe it was
something I ate last night.