One morning you awaken too early and the animals are there sleeping peacefully all around you. The hyena. The giraffe with his head cocked petulantly on the lap of the hyena. And you wonder if they've been here all of your life, dozing in the wake of a thousand moons, a thousand crimes that you didn't have stomach enough to commit -
although it would mean this, this miracle among the souls of animals.And you. You with sheen before your eyes that so blinds you from their fine-ness. Finesse, they say, is a matter of competence
without ego. Hold me like flowers in the moon,says the giraffe. You're not sure whether he's speaking to the hyena or to you so you pretend not to hear him. This pretense goes on and on for years
until you have convinced yourself that the giraffe and the hyena are not really there at all. Your denial is so complete it is like an announcement to all the world. Then one night you hear the man inside of you say,Phfaww! Action. Action is the only thing of any consequence! It is the first voice in all the world, and it breaks the eggshell of quiet. The sound shatters the sheen from your eyes with astonishing effortlessness.
Suddenly there is a giraffe weeping like a flower in the moon.You gather the giraffe like a bouquet of your own neglect. And you rock it.You rock it.
by Ally Acker. w/ Gabi, Miles, 1995-6? a post on a wall, third floor, L---- cafe/restaurant/bar - 3 floors. WDC. 17th st? off from Conneticut Ave, Dupont near.
