JORDIE ALBISTON
tin
Sn–ow never falls in the Land of Altona but he has been here for 5 000 years & when
she looks over the spent grey towers he silvers up the dull spins her truth like an
MGM twister there! the men rowing there! Miss Gulch on her cackling bike &
then! the C-R-A-S-H & back down to earth {her head always hurts when this part
occurs} & there! the house but something’s not right & the midgets & monkeys &
feet sticking out & the world gone too bright & poor old Hickory needs a heart {but
locked in his pocket a lottery card 50 protons positive! positive! a magical jackpot
perfect subplot she says it okay why not}
we work well together you downstairs with your oscillating
curves me upstairs with my nerves we work until winter
until you change ‘malleable’ > ‘frangible’ it seems like a
temperature thing 13° & you start to get brittle go a little
bit cold I see it unfold you fighting the fight one day so
nice the next not so quite & I don’t really mind whatever you
do or wherever is ‘Home’ to you in the script it is written
you are mine & I’d given up hope & I never thought & the fact
remains & so on & so on etc what can I say but ‘a star’ has
arrived you with your brand new Technicolor heart what
can I say but before the lights before all those opening days
& nights I lived out my life till then in black & white