Tour

Did the wall wail? I heard it-not. You were suppose to get on your knees and kiss the cold-stone WALL. What ya-know - another Wall, East Berlin. I was enamoured of walls. This was a symbolic-wall, a wall of mind. "You stay down-there, mind-you." As a rule, I don't like to kiss-walls. The ground once, I admit. But-then // what I do // and would kiss // others maybe not.

All I thought. Father in heaven and father incest. I didn't think much about it. He was very intimating. What is that? My first time. please don't kick sand in my face. I am the ninety-nine pound-weakling, but what-a Tomb-boy. My mother had the most interesting mind. She had been a professional dancer, met a lot of the stars, looked like a blonde star herself, had the mind of

Ma'am Mirth

. She married a catastrophe // the god-physique. Ex college-athlete and all 'round spoiled brat, who failed over upon clover, and never got-over. He was too-nice a guy, they said. Wouldn't collect on his debtors. Half the town still owes him money. But it took the fews too finish him off, time-after // the glory days all gone. Best of advice was from a fatherless also best-friend // who said to me, the worst cripples // are the prop-carrying crutch guys; crushed by their fathers, to psychological crumb-ess. We on the motherhand // are free-agents. We be the whoever we want. My first // father-further-figure // was a bum on a bench, a secret-agent, the why I am-now, please Ma'am: when will you let me out of this closet. It was you in Chicago. I wanted you to walk-me in the park. I was probably more intelligent // then a kid // than Father Un-dose the Bride // as an adult. But how could I know?

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