As atwitter as redwing blackbirds
who can be quite ornery
not unlike certain custodians
of the public trust
who spend their days clipboarded in cubicles
awaiting the final tolling of retirement,
or those on the edge of the Great Abyss
who have overstayed their welcome
and their common sense
and pine for the good old days
with its handwoven tapestries
and wrought iron walkways,
are those who re-enter the fray each day
in real time no less
on the launch pad of life
for the long haul across the Great Divide
and into the homes of millions of reviewers
who have paid their dues
to say nothing of their cable bill
and are no doubt fully aware
of what awaits them around the bend in the river
with of course a fine print coda
spelling out in no uncertain terms
the 100 percent no-questions-asked-money-back-guarantee,
as if that really mattered.
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Klaus Kinski in Fitzcarraldo (1982)
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