Thirty years ago today
The party didn't really get started until after midnight at the beginning of Easter Sunday. I didn't meet anyone there who wasn't an artist: science fiction writer, workers in textiles, and painters. Diana Dufretes looked gorgeous and I met the other members of her ménage a trois. Jodie was a video artist who resembled Bette Davis. Ray looked almost exactly as I imagined he would. In the wee hours of the morning they put on a tacky mockery of a Passion Play with a guy named Yehuda crucified on the wall above the celebrants. He was up there for at least half an hour while below him a communion was performed, followed by Ray as the priest ripping off his clothes and dancing while the jewelry from his genital piercings dangled and danced as well. Diana performed her piece. It was kind of fresh, a little naive, innocent, and much more original than most of the stuff people did that night. I sang my poem Calendar Girl and it was the first time I'd ever performed in public. People applauded and seemed to like it. I dedicated the song to Diana and gave her a copy, but later she wanted to make sure I hadn't written it for her. I assured her that I wrote it a long time before I met her:
Calendar Girl
There is a woman in the mirror
she lives behind my eyes
to orbit my subconscious
like a shadow-satellite
but I'll never really touch her
well at least never in this time
she is the shape-shifting idol
in the temple of my mind
You know I've reached for her in many
and found a little peace
if only I'd reached deeper still
I might have been released
oh but we'll never touch each other
although we live in the same place
you see our backs are fused together
so we take different views of space
Oh but I am scared of her
she tests the strength
of every dream I build
which buckle neath the weight
of just the shadow of her will
but I really needn't worry
cause she can't touch me anyway
Her's are heat-seeking missiles
and my heart is cold as clay
She is the coiled and sleeping serpent
at the bottom of my spine
she's the shadow puppet theater
in the backstage of my mind
but I'll never really see her
because there's a veil she hides behind
but I guess that’s for the better
cause just one look would drive me blind
Yes and her geodesic belly
is my planetarium
and also its the diving-bell
that dropped me so far from my home
but I'll never really live there
because you just can't go back again
no she will never be my mother
and she'll never be my friend
No, no, no she has no sense of humour
and she has no sense of time
sometimes we meet halfway in drag
in some neutral place we find
but we never stay for long there
although we stay forever too
Each moment holds eternity
if you see each moment through
It's her flesh that warms the altar
it's her hand that wields the knife
it's her lips that drink that last drop of my blood
it's her kiss that brings me my life
but I'll never really kiss her
well at least never in this world
She is my shape-shifting priestess
she's my Calendar Girl
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