Wild Goose Chase

Grace says about that other girl, 

how she’s living in an intoxicated kind of charmed situation surely what leads to indolence, she says,

if that other girl don’t mind so much about nuthin.  

She says, And you know that other girl’s mood is gonna be what drowns her before she ever knows she’s in over her head.  

Left to her own devices.

Way that other girl wants to be spoiled, Grace says, expecting everybody to make room for the center of her gravity, camping on ’em and declaring a staycation when she’s a couch-potato 

house-guesting in the middle of their orbit

and they all gotta get up early to make a living.  

Be lucky if one of them bodies could catch the magic worm floating in tequila,  

Way that other girl reminds them to bring home the bacon, and wants to be thanked for helping make the grocery list.

Has her a hankering for a BLT.

Grace says, Think maybe we oughta shoot that other girl’s high hawk off her post, ‘cuz it ain’t like she’s in touch with her innards.

She don’t feel stirrings where they belong and when she do pang or pine like how she should, she ain’t howling for you, excepting to bark you off your dry hump just long enough for you to go pick up her dry cleaning.  

Grace says, that other girl poses obstacles to your deliverance. 

Goose looks at Grace like he’s in danger of losing his own heart, like it’s coming up in his throat, swearing an oath to choke him, like he’s losing the only woman he has ever loved and nobody is gonna help a poor fella out even though everybody can see he’s just about to chew…

Goose hears everything Grace says come out a gaggle after that,

“Honk if you want service! Honk if you want service!”

keeping him in line, like it was a sign

the letter V for “victory”

posted above the awning of the drive-thru laundry mat, on the corner of the intersection

where all the traffic formations flocked and jammed, honking for service.  

And there Goose is, wringing his wet socks in his hands,

flatfooted and bare on the spotted branch of a London Plane parking strip tree, trying to perch well past noontime rush hour in order to avoid airing out his delicates,

to avoid becoming


Surrounded by a murder of assembling crows barking,

“Honk if you want him to eat his heart out!  Honk if you want him to eat his heart out!”

He feels lily-livered, as the hierarchy of greedy scavengers grows impatient, scolding one another for proximity, each pass brushing against him, raising bumps on his flesh, 

and Goose with his wits not quite belonging to him, acts obligingly like he is the Foie Gras, that beckons his comrades to gander,

and he promises himself in good cheer,

to everybody, one and all, hoping

if only

it gets that other girl up off the couch

so he might pull out the hide-a-bed.  

Salvador Dali's Sit on My Face and Mae West LipWear (mixed media collage) Bitter Sweet Place (Katie-Rae Jean)
Salvador Dali (Sit on My Face) and Mae West (LipWear) mixed media “Fashion Plate” collage by Katie-Rae Jean (based on Dali’s Mae West Lips Sofa circa. 1938)

The Sevdaliza “That Other Girl” (music video) is being posted here for no Commercial Purpose.

‘operating from another world’  concept by Sevdaliza and Pussykrew directed by Pussykrew produced by Pussykrew written by Sevdaliza music produced by Mucky music co-produced by Sevdaliza. Pussykrew is a interdisciplinary duo (Polish born, currently based in Shanghai), creating 3D imagery, multimedia installations, visual forms and sculptures. They’ve exhibited their works internationally, including Saatchi Gallery London, Carrousel du Louvre Paris and Transmediale Festival. Pussykrew explores post-human concepts, corporeal aesthetics and fluid identities with their synthetic-organic notions, constantly searching for liminal states within the digital realm.

Mae West Lips Sofa by Salvador Dali circa. 1936

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