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- 10 Tracks, 9.50
i cannot drink or play chess
like my uncle, who wandered
St. Germain des Pres in the 80s
in search of those unlucky enough to fall
into his checkered spider trap.
he made his living drinking
& gambling his wits, his skill,
his charm. he won oysters & caviar,
duck confit, an apartment
i cannot drink or play chess like my uncle.
i make my living on luck, on happenstance,
on fate-- which has a lot to do with my face
which has a lot to do
with my mothers face.
for in me is generations
of lithe beauty, lithe youth
as a new flower on the old
vine, a fruit of roots, expatriates
from america, from belgrade,
entwined & hybridized
with the native french.
i wish i were a fly trap
of chess & wine like my uncle.
to be male & persistent, to take love
& life instead of merely receiving it...
perhaps i will start playing chess,
perhaps i will become a perfect
flower, both sexes
on the vine.