Brian Purcell #8 Dusty Cries

   Dusty Cries

  

   Every time

   Dusty cries

   her love for the Preacher Man

   a man with a horse’s head

   dances on a table

   Lewis Carroll thinks

   of his lust for Alice

   or her sister

   or their governess

   before his head hits the glass

   and absinthe tips

   to the whirling floor

   Victoria approves

   as Albert spins the grooves

   and Dusty melts

   slowly

   into a hot Memphis night

   like a Dali dog

   pursuing lost memories

   2001 spins around

   as Kubrick fakes the moon landings

   it’s the sixties, 19 or 18

   and everyone’s tripping

   on laudanum or LSD

   they exchange dirty postcards

   and end up on Brighton Pier

   with Dickens or James Dean

   and a note from Graham Greene

   to George who’s failed to find

   the road to Wigan Pier

   and coughs out the dust

   from the streets of his people’s tears

   Haven’t you gone to ground yet

   or found the whirling tunnel?

   Tell all to look up

   at the satellite

   moving through the skies

   of parallel times

   as it sells its fears

   to an ecstatic world

   and Dusty smiles, sighs

   and falls into bed

   with a beehive on her head -

           there’s no easy way down