Art and American Hypocrisy
By David R. Vance
February 1990; page 16; Volume 1, No. 4
At the Anchor Steam Pub West
off university and twentyeighth St
In thirty minutes? Ya I know,
the one with the piped waterfall.
"It's an insincere replication,
spluttering like Salutations
to an acquaintance you regret
only sleeping with."
Me? I'm fine ... "Like I would tell you?"
No. I've only been here for two beers
not that long really. How is your art?
You actually took down your piece,
the one with the seringed rag.
"The one that was too real,
with the HIV positive fluorescent
paint and the undersized band-aid."
The University can take your work?
"We can't take their offices."
What Right? What's Right? What Rights?
THE AMERICAN FLAG ... made in Taiwan?
"My father made his living in Vietnam.
It's bloody, and his hands are bloody,
and it commemorates what he lost
and the lead he got and the dreams he gets."
"Fending dogs - territorial, carnivorous,
natural, trailing the gregarious jibbered
pack; barking and snapping at their tails,
their liberty, their justice, their all."
No thanks, they fry those in lard,
and I'm giving up flesh and apple
pie. But perhaps I'm lying. Can't
Say ... I have never starved."