Saturday, April 12, 2008

The War on Terror, Number 11, in D Minor

"What are we listening to?" Debord asked. He sat on the edge of the ottoman, his legs crossed.

The soles of his giant shoes smelled like peanut butter, dragonflies, and rank pigeons from the pavement of Boulevard de Sebastopol.

"The War on Terror, Number 11, in D Minor," I said.

Underneath the ottoman, I watched his giant didactic shoes rock back and forth.

I said, "Opus 103. Maximum blood. Breakaway glass. The dogs upstairs rolling in WD-40 when the apartment buzzer bleats."

"The subway should be opened at night, after the trains stop running," he said. "The passageways and platforms should be poorly lit with dim, blinking lights."

"The President of the War on Terror asks a lot of clattering little questions, Debord."

I licked my stomach. An old pickup truck jerked down Greenview Avenue and I was afraid. This morning they sliced a matted hair from under my chin.

Their famous shadows, a diversion of color, a swat of yellow wall.

"The strength and the weakness of the War on Terror resides in its viewing the goal as immediately present," Debord said. "The War on Terror retains only the conclusion. And its exclusive insistence on this conclusion is accompanied by deliberate contempt for method."

His giant shoes are purple and extroverted. They are manufactured in the mountains of Italy and created using flat, metallic sequins.

Guy Debord's giant shoes are inspired by memories of his wandering childhood. You can see his giant shoes are flat where they land.

He added: "The White House has merely to repeat and replay the same simple, total conclusion in every single struggle, because its first conclusion was from the beginning identified with the entire outcome of the War on Terror."

"The score calls for three flutes and piccolo," I said, "and two clarinets and bass clarinet. A place for my tongue on my steady fur and soup made from moths and French Vanilla yogurt left in a bowl."

"Terror, when it does not hold the promise of happiness, must be destroyed," Debord said.

"Four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, and tuba."

1 Comments:

Blogger Crafty Green Poet said...

I enjoyed reading this engaging, intriguing and thought provoking piece.

1:51 AM  

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