Andy Warhol #4

Andy Warhol walks on water
Andy climbs a ladder to the cumulus cave.

The blue:
the color of his jeans,
the color of his eyes,
but his cheeks are a bit too red for me,
and his movies
are too long
and the jokes hide in the drawers.

But the parties, they survive, like a long hangover:
Lou Reed, David Bowie, Iggy Pop…god, they were sexy.

 

There was a woman: Eileen.
She wore her hair back and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes
with Durham tobacco.
She sometimes drank too much cough syrup.

 

And the day that he slipped and fell down the stairs
tearing a hole in his pants:
“Damn my mother,” he said.

I’m never sure why he said that.

He and Iggy Pop exchanged words and stared
laughing.
We were stoned and nothing really made sense
except Donald Duck.

Now why that made sense any more than Andy’s mother,
I don’t know.

“I saw monkeys in the grocery store,” Eileen whispered.

“That’s bullshit,” Andy said.

They kissed,
their tongues rolling together,
then Andy disappeared
into the back room.

I never saw him again.

 

andy warhol

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