Coca-Cola by Chris Champagne

Chris Champagne is a New Orleans poet and playwright. His recent book Roach Opera was released by Portals Press, 2007. "This is poetry on the cloven hoof - nothing but pure psychotic associative human beauty. He's off the beaten wall. He came to a fork in the road, and he went straight up instead. ... Chris is one of the several classic born-and-bred voices in New Orleans. This is the authentic product of Big Easiness" - Bill Myers

Coca-Cola

Warm spring moisture pregnant night
Softing my masterpiece cracked sidewalk amble
Blue jeans filled with nickels and dimes
Two block exercise past an architecture mosaic
Of United States homes each one
As unique as the snowflakes breaking in our hearts
On truths that cruel up the vine
Whispering our name in a surely drunken God's ear
Past facades that never retire in our imaginations.

On to the frontier of my nine year old world
To the oil station.
Neon and light bustle of city business
Where the crowds passing ensure our anonymity
Civilization as a mask
To where I mend the hot dark by putting my coins
In the minute man-made universe of the machine.
And the dinosaur technology
That is my brother
Gave way to the music of clink
and roll thump thud tinny
Boom of a can of Coca-Cola or the orgasm-like built-in Indiana
whiz death throe gurgle trap door to hell thirst
glass Big Shot black cherry bottle.
Satisfaction in an operation started and consummated
with the efficiency of industrial revolution romance
The luscious organic pin up girl to the computers compressed
and perforated artificial space age woman with the primal
soft Whitman sampler center
Wrapped in aluminum junkyard pinafores.

Then, back into domestic safety
The joy of innocence wrapping its arms around me
With my Nelly Fox baseball card cultural shield
As immortal as I will ever be
Dreamed silly dreams
Minding my own business
Inside my shy kind generous child
Marinating my soul for the hundreds of heart deaths
Around the corner.