Excerpt from "Boardwalk"
by Bob Rixon
WOODEN GRANDMOTHERS dispensing wisdom
from a slot:
"This diamond comes to tell the tale
That for you good luck will never fail"
but this mannequin grandma
hardly moves her head
or her hands, her eyes are broken -
they won't blink anymore,
her breasts jiggle,
her fortune cards are dusty.
Maybe you'd rather ask Morgana?
Decadent vestige of triple goddess
now a 50 cent TV visage
with disembodied voice, she's the hype
you've heard all your life,
she won't slip you a souvenir,
she doesn't know you.
You can trust a wooden grandmother
even when her bulb has burned out,
her small gift is always a truth:
"O speed on my little dove
Carry this message to the one I love"
shot hits clock.....cuckoo comes out & cuckoos
shot hits duck....duck dives
shot hits cowboy at bar.....cowboy drinks shot
shot hits parrot on roost.....parrot squawks
shot hits piano player.....piano player plays piano
A row of mechanical claws
grabbing portions of treasure,
each as much as a hand holds
call things by their names
& make them precious
Inventory of Treasure: green soldier, hot dog charms,
rubber glow-in-the-dark skeleton, miniature basketball,
three inch guitar with painted strings, folding magnifier,
silver kazoo shaped like French horn, speak-no-evil monkey,
fingertip with red nail, beer mug with white foam,
naked pink baby, baseball glove toothpick, blue bootie,
right foot with pink toenails, red fish with wide open mouth.
This is White Lightning, Robot
Start chalking or start walking
Goddamn my last metropolis annihilated,
I've been nuked
on a screaming orange screen,
it says THE END.
She's won another triumphant replay
proclaimed with deafening pure wave fanfares,
the entire arcade knows she won
& I lost.
