Just me
a coffee shop,
and a little fluorescent green price tag
Listening to the owner,
an artist,
who speaks of Italy
as if it were the corner store
filled with dusty
neglected relics
to be noticed
only in passing.
No real regard
for the things
people hold dear.
The artist's friends
revel in B movies
and imported beer
or maybe an espresso
when the mood strikes them
like now,
today,
here.
In front of me.
Just me
and the little fluorescent green price tag
fastened to the ceramic terra cotta pot
overcrowded with roots
from a sansivaria or spider
or some other common house plant
that I can't recall
hanging
spinning
suspended
above my head.
I joked with my friend that the
little fluorescent green price tag
was placed just so
to make a statement
of commercialism and greed;
of the degradation of one's true art
in today's world.
"How unfair it is!"
I screamed.
"The celebration of beauty
is marred by a price,
a category,
an opinion."
The terra cotta pot distracting me
pulling me away from the ambiance
of this miniscule shoppe
and I wonder if
the pot will fall
on my head
when I'm not looking.
-
Audio Version
(As it sounds in my head)
-
