Church of the Adagio
by Philip Dacey
“I’m bored. Let’s do something, Man. Let’s do something.
Let’s get naked. Get a soda, cheesecake, anything!"
Overheard, corner of 15th and Guerrero, San Francisco
I’m bored. Let’s do something. What does it take
to give this place a shot of juice, a buzz?
Let’s get naked. Get a soda. Cheesecake.
Man, I’m ready for another earthquake.
Let the plates shift and the tidal waves rise
to swamp my boredom, if that’s what it takes.
This big nothing’s giving me a headache.
Black hole? My middle name. Boredom is what is
unless we get naked, a soda, cheesecake,
anything--boogie-woogie on a stick.
How bored can I get? Let me count the ways.
I’d even consider an all-out attack,
but on what, whom? The savage god Yawn. Let’s make
faces, a beeline, time, a joyful noise.
Or else just get naked, a soda, cheesecake.
Isn’t there something, anything, to shake
up this day, my stopped clock, some word to raise
the dead? The air’s for mounting. What would it take
to get you naked? A soda? Cheesecake?