Nicodemus and the Metallic Mechanical Whale

There is sterility in travel.

In the life of a transient
flyers are more attentive
more available than a mother
they cling even while you pretend to slip
their salutations through the sweatiness of a smug
refusal to their hand-out
smiling aimlessly into guilt.

Xeroxed remindful-ness
nonsensical rhymes like the gossiped
3 little pigs
waiting for wings
with the at last wolf’s huff
puff
scatter
lift
fall
litter
In some states, the crack Nicodemus cooks
over an imagined 3D fire,
Peddling flyers is illegal.

A private high to renegotiate with useless ribbons
dyed in cheap concoctions
breaking the pattern of dancing alone
2 left feet in clowning lady bug red slippers.

Balancing the morning’s potential
Nicodemus takes another sip on a foamy avoid
and another automatic take leads to a non-seductive pull
pushing out a fog of little things
then freestyle walking with the others
to the metallic mechanical whale in leather
Italian shoes–a hurtful gift to walk into–
an awkward promise
too expensive for a puzzle
too complicated by childlike bawlings
too put together for an unfinished look:
should Nicodemus get a gentleman’s hair cut
some new gentleman’s clothing
maybe a recycled seran wrapped ear-piece
a hobo’s cup maybe?

Nicodemus finds a gigantic white suit to walk behind
a gorilla godzilla weaving through the crowd of modern mules
with galloping torsos
the elephants leap over the zebras
shitting on themselves
racing to the elevator
where the monkey grins
an inaugurated show of white teeth desperations
drones away
pushes the button

to the metallic mechanical whale
we go
we go
we go
they sing
hungover
asthmatic
xenophobe claustrophobics
zip locked into nooks and knots
there is no air left in the X-box
the shouldered remains are an exchange
borrowed perseverance
sweetness to lull sensibilities senseless.

Nicodemus makes perfect penmanship:
One last cry to say goodbye…
Those left behind
with bed sheet creases to line their faces
forever looking for that mirror
to say, to say
goodnight sun
say goodnight.

Descending deliberately deeper
into the belly
an impatient metallic mechanical whale
gives many times to prepare
assorted ornaments for listlessness
discarded in a jungle of little things.

Words to blacklist, like Polished
error free sentences.
Can words collect filth
can they take a bullet?
I’ll wash, then, hang them out
on my bambooed words line.
I’d like to hang ORIGINAL out to dry.

Now BRILLIANT is a word
worth moving your lips to
Drunk
ard
bRIL
LI
ANCE!!

To lose all your teeth–
Just BRILLIANT!

A day can conceive a Jezebel–
BRILLIANT!

A day can turn on a not so clever Jezebel–
BRILLIANT!

To Jump like Christopher Robbin’s Tigger–
BRILLIANT!

Sing Hoorah like a Pooh Bear–
BRILLIANT!

We all fall down–
Absolutely BRILLIANT!
The metallic mechanical whale comes
just whimper like a Piglet

RED LIGHT
GREEN LIGHT

We all fall deliberately further
into the belly of the whale
it eats up time
racing through a riptide void
it comes up for air on 125th
then dives back into
BRILLIANT!

To avoid everything shameful
in a little thing as a look can reveal
while riding the metallic mechanical whale
Nicodemus discovers the wonders of anonymity.
When asked why the dark shades
Nicodemus, irritated, takes them off and renders:
There’s nothing worse than a loquacious eye
blinking when they’re unsure of what’s coming
backstabbing eyes
darting back into tortoise shells of
Of Course, Of Course!
Indeed, Indeeds!
One day
we’ll congregate in the metallic mechanical whale
wearing nothing but baby powder. And in a circle of all of us
we’ll each have turns
Saying, “TADA! Think Josephine Baker.”

Wearing necessary discoveries
Nicodemus becomes a fly
on a wall in a room
the whale’s hard plastic mirrors
gives many eyes as a fly
on a wall in a room
witnessing the fleeting speed of gossip
spying for secrets:
knickers exposed
mouths open
buggered noses
Nicodemus the ethnographic scientist:

What’s the difference between
a zombie in a zoot suit and a bullfrog
hoping, hoping, to make it to the nearest exit?

Hushed! into a little thing
fitting nicely in a palm, in a pocket
iPods, discmen, walkmen hands
bury the most imitated moment
the intoxicating high of death.

Hushed! into a little thing
Nicodemus mediates electric
staring at Billy Graham’s poster
“God. Loves. You.” Next to graffiti scribbles
“Are you a sinner? I’m afraid so!”

Magnetic in the fingers
toes
weird looking circuits
hungrily standing bold
burning on the chest.

Caught in fitful fantasy
the main event explodes
as shoulders are gone first
showing off an offering
tap
tap
tap
yes
yes
yes of the feet and head in deserted praise.

In the belly of the metallic mechanical whale
it eats up time
blue lightening
thundering through caves.
Another whale rides next to Nicodemus’s.
Looking in
seeing nothing but an overpriced pastry dish
Nicodemus diddles:

Just as neighbors ought to be
this is yours and this is mine
we’ll be pleasant in the living area
and say, “How do you do?”
We’ll each have our own cupboards
to put the complaints in.