Olympia

Ah met this guy wan time, a backpacker,
When ah wis shit-faced. He says (ah’m thinking
He was stoned, mind) “I saw this pyramid
Right? once on a stop-off when I got lost;
Came across it in a deserted lot.
Honest to God, man – I swear – a fucking
Great pyramid, with stuff inside and two
Guys lounging on top. No love lost if you
See what I mean. Hand on my heart – one was
God; the other a cocky pouting boy
In blue velvet. He met my eye – I thought
He was Art. First I wasn’t bothered – then
I peeked in and saw – you wouldn’t believe –
Everything.

At the top,
Far away, saintliness and pain
Clutched together whilst aesthetics
Nestled beneath the blue velvet bum.
On my level snot and sebum and sperm
And sucked viscous fat from God knows where.
Swirling in between – I couldn’t take it all in – sex and sadness,
Virtue, passion, junkies, brides, and butterflies. Blank verse in English, clocks
That dripped, fresh frozen water, a christ of piss, and so much laughter. There were
Beds left unmade and a virgin-spanked baby, and there, staring back at me was Olympia.
Then: a tremor, and a small clunk.
Them up top rocked to their feet, crouched,
Limbs spread and wary – but – too late – a
Great wrench and the whole damn thing went up

And up
And upended.
For a split second
They dangled, fingers pincered,
But before they could drop down it all came
Like a fallen dart and drove, point first, through the gravel, down
Until its underside was level with the ground.
You might have missed it, had it not been liberally spread with shit
In which – you could just make out – a giant finger had scrawled:
‘Here lies the consecrated, down a peg
Or two: Cop a look, ye mighty, and despair’.
I didn’t like the concrete town and there
Was no more to see so I left quick-smart
To stay, you know, some place more regular.”


09/10/02