The Tyrant of Art* I'll be your master If you insist on being my slave. Look at the world. If it looks back, smile Your most natural, unspontaneous smile. Expecting difference erases it. Leave good wishes behind Long before you die. They rot after you're gone. Be free to express ugliness. It becomes you Until you move on. Life is a hardon Only to a very wry horse. Leotards don't fit on a lion. Infamy fits anyone. Stones cry tears When rain obliges. The question eats the answer And is freed. Look beyond the object Of your desires, Empty as a friend Who has let you go. "You're fired" is not yet an opera But it soon may be For mid-level, middlebrow bores. Books are different. Something has to happen in them. Motorcycles don't have minds of their own, Only nostalgia for the dead. Confession boxes have been replaced by ATM's. Their action is similar Although the results are more real When the cash spot is pressed. Emotions were nice, weren't they? Tom Savage *Written while watching Factory Girl by George Hickenlooper
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