Oblation of the Senses

waking up face down in some Memphis mulch
my God
it is Sunday

this is the day the Lord hath made
this is the day the earth hath baked
I hear many new car doors thump to a close
and the soothing triplicate sounds of Stan Getz
which means I'm in Midtown

which reminds me of a man I met
in Kosciusko M i SS i SS i PP i
he had mother of pearl teeth
and a knack for pinky rings
and funny custom dress shirts
pink broadcloth with a white point collar
and a tie tack
and that hair from the early eighties
where every strand is held in a
matrix of dry suspension,
a nod to the ablative heat shield
of some 70s astronautical triumph

"I heard some blacks wanted to move in, so I bought the entire block."
"We were watching the History Channel program on the Ole Miss riots
'Well I'll be damned Martha! There I am!'
with a brick poised to smash an MPs head.
If only we had a mortar; get it? Brick and mortar."
"I own the insurance company and the funeral parlor."

The Stan Getz was still playing
and I tortured myself into rising
with whatever I was holding
(keys)

I waited on Poplar for a rolling
rectangular prism
to kneel and pick me up

it was so psychedelic
I was blessed to witness the day