ii. hockney and friedrich
One night I get out of my car.
It rains. Umbrellas bloom.
In the closets, empty clothes—cedarwood, bananas, and waffle cones.
The swimming pool a sink of shampoo.
Astroturf gets bloody when a wild pig in racing stripes appears in the garden,
clusters of war ribbons dripping from his side.
By moonlight his eyes shine like black snakes twinkling in the sun.
The beat is dropping like a shuttle out of space.
Someone shouts The splash is on!
and he dives deep in the mire, all turbo desire.
I can see him lathered even now, one tusk still sticking upright like a bowsprit under ice.
When the sky falls
I thank god I’m a pantheist.