I walked into a loft one night last week
and rode the elevator to a stop.
I saw a man and woman there afloat
above the floor. The man appeared to be
asleep, the lady held two large balloons.
A peaceful scene at first and then the room
began to change; a hologram would flash
and stay before my eyes: a bird that flew
in cosmic sea; then Andy Warhol sneezed.
He turned a television on and I appeared
I spoke aloud about the unknown joys
Of Disney World, a flying, floating place
where we could all return to innocence.
The party guests began to come in twos
and ones and threes although the couple's feet
did not fall down regardless of how much
they drank and drank; they drank and then they slept.
A swimming pool arrived quite late. It was
a gift from David Hockney's brush it seems.
Refreshing as could be; I couldn't stay
for Damien Hirst took my arm to leave.
(c) Gay Reiser Cannon 2011 * All Rights Reserved