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Pool by Michael Tartàglia, © 2001 |
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Hordes of post-collegiate individuals crowd a misty club in So-Ho. Bass thuds contributed by visiting jazzmen rattle glasses, crackle fragile old wood, and shatter the senses of the dazed dozy during the late night and early morning... Stretched out by the pool side, I'm halcyon, sipping water served by hotel staff. Clouds saturate the sky with slight chances for light to pry through. The breeze flutters umbrellas, the heat incubated comfort, and again I fell off... The chemically altered assembly cheered on the auditory heroes who provide heartwarming reasons to remain insomniac. Minor vodka enhanced political debate sharks surface. The bartender reassured himself of his own economic well being in his cathedral of inebriation... In a drunken state, from snoozing, rest in gut a bug pays a visit. It rests on my arm. it stings me. No harm done. We then drift away... Continuing merry business, outside are fights reminiscent of prehistoric territorial bouts. Guiding lights shine on consumed items eaten and left in undigested states Lights of soothing rage, although, arouse caution amongst the savvy. Simply bloated, the victims mobilize, stumbling... Waking, satisfyingly sipping the delivered drink, I greet another unexpected visitor. Buzzing, flying, landing in my drink, drenching its wings wiggling and squirming about. It made the fight of its life -- no, days -- to no avail. I take another gulp... Of the club's temporary inhabitants every varying casualty from hallucinogenic warfare belt-out morning mourning moans. A few brain cells' blacked-out hours before, these people were sent home mellowed by gin and bass vibes... Setting the glass down, all the skies cleared. The bug still floats, motionless in my... in its ocean of effortless utopian tranquility. No harms done. More clouds and drinks come drifting on silver-blue platters... If only those visitors could remain here, away from jubilant atmospheres to, for once, be home and peacefully consoled totally prostrated, saving themselves from the embarassments of repeated falls in public. It's too damn comfortable here, by the pool, watching joyous bodies drift in frenzy. |
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