‘And your giant face on the plaza…..’ Image by Duncan Reekie
By Duncan Reekie
So
to get to the house you had to
make your way
down the hill
from the airport
through the maze of winding lanes
Between the high walled private villas
festooned with Camellia
Magnolia
Rhododendron
Wisteria
Bougainvillea
chains of blossom on the high walled
gardens
It would be dawn so
you had to wind down the ridge
through the narrow ways
through the ornate iron railings
where the limousines
were clicking
You had to see the
cats in the windows
model yachts in the windows
of the villas
There was the fleeting laughter of servants
drifting from the open windows of the villas
Sometimes
there was a glimpse of the bay
blue below
beyond the verandas
The plaza
The esplanade
Yachts in the distant bay
You had to think
what were the yachts like ?
well
they were just like the model yachts
in the windows of the villas
Only much bigger
Also
there was a drone high up
buzzing like some kind of insect
So then
you had to imagine what kind of insect would buzz like that
You had to close your eyes
against the sun and
see the dark veins
shifting in your lids
Crimson hoops in the darkness
Then you had to put gaffer tape around the
wound in your arm
Where the Blood dried like rust
You had to check your position on Google maps
and see that you were moving
East of Eden
towards the house
The intersection of the lanes
You heard
that thudding in the distance
The gas in your throat
And when you got to the house
of course there were corpses
in the drive
you had to imagine the corpses
What were the corpses like ?
They weren’t pretending to be corpses
They weren’t poetry corpses
They really were dead
Dead people with their heads all smashed up
like rotten apples
It was a modern rectangular house built with Indiana limestone and yellow roman brick, which emphasized the geometric and horizontal nature of the exterior. The East elevation was framed by two octagonal towers and the main entrance to the west of the porch was hidden from street view.
Inside the house the floor was smeared with blood
Broken vodka bottles
Plastic chairs
Boxes of Unsold merchandise
T Shirts
Needles
Ashes
Dead dogs
Talking snakes
Actually it stank of shit
And
somewhere upstairs
you had to hear a voice
You had to listen and follow up the stairs
to a vast gallery with a bay window
And there he was
The liar
wearing only a wide brimmed hat
Playing Nintendo Switch on a pile of skulls
And he would look at you
and he would say:
‘‘Remember the old days
when you didn’t even have to lock your door
You knew everybody
You looked after each other
If a neighbour was in trouble
you helped
because you could
Because everybody had a job
Everybody had a car
Everybody had a home
Food was cheap
You didn’t queue for anything
Everything was well made
by craftsmen
The summers were hot
and Christmas was white
Mummy loved you
and Daddy loved you
You were happy
But
then they came
with their dirty filthy hands
Their stinking greasy paws
Contaminated
Terrorist hands
Painted slut claws
Blasphemous
paedophile fingers
Whining and weeping:
‘We’re the same as you, we’re the same as you…
We just want the same things you want….’
Yes
they wanted what you wanted
And they took it
They took everything you loved and they shit on it
But we are not lost
even now
Even now we are not lost
I will clean your dreams
We will drive them from our sacred land
And those that who will not go will be exterminated
We will kill them all
And then we will kill their God’’
And of course I remembered
I remembered the podcast
I remembered
the Chesnut Tree Cafe
And your giant face on the plaza
On every office block
How we loved you
You were so strong and beautiful
And
I know you tried to love us
You tried
Little Prince
Our kind father
Our brave Son
Our Secret Agent
Beloved
eye surgeon
Holy ghost
Oh Little Prince
But in the end we were just animals
Just insects
Just likes
Just Non-Playable characters
And
In the end
you left us
Which is all very well in hindsight
You have to understand the cultural context
it was a different time
different standards
There were rumours of course
Sacks of sugar in the Moscow basement
The island
The drugs
The drownings
The bombing
The rape
The screaming mothers
You didn’t have to fuck that snake
Snake fucker
It was something that Roy Cohn said
But I never believed
that you were dead
And now
here you are
ALIVE
Little Prints
We will build a concrete stage
And put you in a steel cage
So that all the tiny orphans
Can come and listen to your distortions
And when you lie about their nation
And the gift of civilisation
They’ll throw trash around your feet
For that is what you made them eat
