THE ARRIVAL OF ENIGMA

The square dressed itself
in moonlight

as if it were on its way
to a fancy dress ball

as one of de Chirico's
masterpieces.

The puppets
after an inspired performance

lay tangled together
in a box on the bridge.

They waited as their world
was dismantled and

their stage sets stacked
neatly against a wall.

A glass eye winked but
didn't think the human saw.

But the human saw.
Or was it just the moon?

The moon played hide
and seek behind a cloud.

The puppets chattered
amongst themselves

untangling each other
as they planned their escape.

But before anything could
come of this

they were tossed carelessly into a case
that snapped shut with sudden finality.

They were carried away
into the early hours of the morning.

The rebellion of wood
had been scotched.

We used the left over de Chirico
as a scene to stage a kiss

as if we had been painted
into place ourselves.

"The Arrival of Enigma"
or some such title

scrawled in litter
below our feet.

Lautréamont Disco
beckons the neon

to those
travellers of the night

. . . words.

"What's a nice sewing machine
like you..."

asks an umbrella

"...doing on a dissection table
like this?"

Miss Sewing Machine
tells the umbrella fella

"Hop it buster!"

He hops it.

She is looking for
a Sugar Dalí.

A cute de Chirico statue
is getting chatted up

by what I guess is
a poet.

The poet is
getting his face slapped.

The nostalgia
of the Infinite.