The American Dream

The narrow to wide to soul or soil to cloud kaleidoscopic pincushion,
A story continuously rewriting itself
Life is an elephant swinging ribbon, sending you dreams
Life in blue is also worth living
Or used to
Silly, soaking “I love you’s”
Drip with lust and that bottled amber thaone of those Beats blamed on the house
Out of nowhere
‘God’ appears
‘God’, blind and kind and smirking behind ‘Bird’, ‘Diz’, and,
One more Lady,
I don’t know her name or face but I certainly will
Today or tomorrow
The niece of God pushes his wheelchair­ suitably graceful nymph, radiating luck and life and humour and sorrow to the angel killer
Twice more I share their beautiful comfort of an intimate joke
That glow never really goes
Silly boy or girl asks me if it was still cold outside
My drink evaporates itself
Everyone with a shot of that earful has a great, great laugh. Poor criminal blushing like a baby apple
Apologies, smiles and Dionysian (now to mortal) discharge thrown up into the air
Who knew glasses could turn to raisins in the sun
Burn, burn, burn
Like it matters at all, funnily enough
Nobody says a thing
Nobody should
They’re off and on to the stage. One moment Bird is speaking to us, purring and charming. He don’t even need to try it with us
In the next he’s Singing,
Flying, Erupting
Nothing else sounds like this
It sounds like

The bartender is his own show
Men and women cannot stop their
tapping, and
The fast tune comes to a lull in birdland
Ladies and gentlemen, Mister Charlie Parker on the alto saxophone!
That Lady can sing, no one here has ever heard anything like it,
nobody ever will.
That’s an unspoken promise
Follow suit, the yard bird’s suite
He makes us apples
from roses
Death don’t make nobody cry,
It make everyone laugh,
and laugh and sing and dance
Never compromise
I can’t see him but Mr. Cassady over there is going crazy, and most are headless and joyful. A room of cool fire
Something seeming to transcend itself
Max on the low­end makes wax, and Billie’s keys are bouncing, taking sly tips from Tiny’s tempo
That man we now know as
his eyes round and wide as dinner plates.
He seems to be absorbing everything he can, as fast and much as he can. But he should know that
is more
And silence deafens
He is only a child. And angel dust. Settle slowly
God bows to Bird. Again. I mean again
Dance, dance, dance. Cats, dogs, slugs, mice, rats, super rats, owls and God. And dance. Smile at the smoke, darlings.

The tears still run and this causes the air to ripple Rampant
Thank God I have ears

And my soul will burst
They are squealing
Smoking too
I found an isolated corner to watch beautiful people To have seen something I have never seen



Ka Wei Chan, Petaling Jaya.