ATSUKO TANAKA

Out of the drizzle
Thursday, October
Into a movie about
Time travel, one
Of my favorite film
Genres, alone, which
Is a little morose I
Suppose, but I’ve been
Feeling unaccountably
Optimistic of late
Manifold confusions
Held unobtrusively
In the gray matter
Out of the movie
Which was terrific
And into the Grey
Gallery for a show
By the late Atsuko
Tanaka, who in 1956
Decided to say no
To pettiness, scratch
That, no to prettiness
And now it is 2004
And Tanaka is gone
Or at least deceased
Though much of her
Work is very alive
In New York City
Her electric dress
Periodically flaming
And I am hungry
Having forgotten
To eat lunch, so I
Slip back out into
The unoffending
Rain, Washington
Square Park, past
The tempting thrift
Of vendor hotdogs
And into West 4th
To take the F back
Home to Brooklyn
Where last night’s
Leftovers beckon
And there’s a book
About ventriloquism
I’ve been meaning
To get my eyes on