Thrillseekers
Poetry: December 1988
In 1970 something a woman named Diana smeared grease all over her body and swam 100 miles through the briny deep. She arrived on shore weak as a kitten in front of cameras and instant fame for we celebrate courage of this kind perhaps because that is all that is left. I recall this memory today knowing that had she failed and drowned which she certainly could have we would have found her foolish and the ego we praised for overcoming would have been nothing more than certifiable suicidal, stupid, we would have interviewed her neighbors instead. No insurance company, no living room in America would remember her name -- there would be no lesson to extrapolate years later we all know not to mess with God. But taking one's life into one's own hands is not courageous there is a community called justice that we have ignored as thrillseekers. In 1970 something a man named Phillipe put on a skin tight black suit and climbed 100 stories above the street. He arrived at the top proud as a peacock in front of police and infamy for we don't tolerate insolence of this kind perhaps because we have no courage left. I recall this memory today knowing that had he failed and fell which he certainly could have we would have found him foolish to flaunt the heights of New York would have been nothing more than suicidal, stupid, he should have taken the elevator instead. No parish priest, no high school in America would forget his name -- there would be no end to the fatuous farce we all know that there are only small chinks in the system. For taking one's life into one's own hands is not courageous this community called justice must not be ignored by thrillseekers