Wednesday, February 16, 2011

First Fridays


I’m standing at the fleshless claws of some long dead dinosaurs.
One a hulking array of bones cut short at the arms.
The other a stout skeleton under a tri-tipped crest.

I’ve got a heavy handed drink cut sparingly with cranberry. 
A sliver of lime pinched between fingertips.  My face feels the flush
A flutter of warmth to my bones.

There’s a dj in the African Mammal Room.  Way at the end of the hall,
The stuffed leather of a mother elephant stays rooted to her spot
While her babies in their own stiff stance lift their trunks to play.

Over in the Whale Room.  A loose crowd hangs back,
Watching a boy in yellow get down by himself.  And the whale
is hang drying from the ceiling, the oontz oontz of the dj vibrating
Each colossal bone.


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