Tuesday, December 06, 2005

A True Star

My friend Michael and I
are sitting at an outdoor cafe
on Avenue A, drinking beer,
when we spot Lady Miss Kier,
the singer of the hot new band
She’s walking down the street
dressed in a psychedelic body suit
which she fills with sweet curves
and pleasant oases of darkness.

Everyone at the cafe,
everyone on the street,
and everyone in the windows
of the buildings on Avenue A
stop eating, drinking, driving
to watch Lady Miss Kier
as she goes by,
and my friend Michael says,
“Now there’s a True Star.”

And with those words I start to wish
that I had the sort of talent
and presence that could give me
such fame and admiration.
But the only talents I have
are for drinking beer
and fucking up.
Very common talents, yes,
but I’m working on
doing them with great style
and in great proportions,
so that one day,
when I walk down Avenue A
to the store to buy beer,
people will stop and say,
“Hey, that guy’s
the biggest drunk in town.”
People will stop their cars
in the middle of the street,
walk up to me and say,
“You’re the guy who came to town
and fucked up REALLY big...
Can I have your autograph?”

“Sure,” I’ll say,
and I’ll sign his copy of
Fuck-Ups Of The Lower East Side
with the words,
“From a great fuck-up
to a little fuck-up.
Here’s looking
at you.”

Originally published in Rant, 1993.

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