Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Bourgeoisie Unloaded loaded at the station, I wave off the mother-of-pearl taxicabs with the outrageous confidence of the Archduke after the bomb missed. One weighted foot follows another through the things we came for. Captain Nemo, I loved your pirate’s ethics: torpedoing slave ships while playing Bach on the pipe organ. I could walk through the Graveyard of the Atlantic without a taking a lungful of salt water. Then you went condo on Mysterious Island and the world became as transparent as gin. Thought balloons bobble like buoys among the stars. Glub, glub, I’m home.
P l e i a d e s —14
The shriek of your chainsaw is killing our weekends outside. We want to read the N.Y. Times beside our koi pool while our kids create colors for Montessori class. What a magnificent place for a child to grow up— even for those who follow you into the basement looking for the fuse box, a missing friend or a fast way out. We understand: those young people volunteered. History is cinema. You can still keep the volume down. We paid to be undisturbed. Noise from your house can be heard we don’t know how far— Afghanistan, maybe.
P l e i a d e s —15