Keep Probing & All the Pretenders Will Blossom into the Truth
By JUSTIN KARCHER
So there I am
wearing a comically-oversized cowboy hat
& running through The Broadway Market
looking for my resurrection
but it’s not the right season or month for starting over
so I climb a staircase of tumbleweed in the parking lot
straight into the setting sun
which smells a lot like death
but not like scary death, more like pretend death
which is still intense, but in a different way
I do my best to ignore the situation
pay attention to all the songs
leaving the lips of everyone below
sometimes they hit the mark
& wipe out the wilderness
there’s no difference
between the American Old West
& Broadway
people desperate to tell stories
desperate to be the heroes
& villains
they think
this country needs
folk heroes or folk
anti-heroes
functioning as medication
for our unmedicated minds
into my thirties
& I have no idea
who I am
a blank coloring book
after all these years
long nights of coloring in myself
with other people’s crayons
then when morning comes
the sun wipes away the colors
so I’m blank again
when you ask me how I’m doing
I’ll always say, “Fine”
but please probe
when you ask what I’m up to
I’ll always say, “Everything”
but please probe
because I’m always ready for heroics
I’m always ready for villainy
but really
what I’m looking for
is a special song plucked from the air
that’ll explain all of this to me
I’m still looking
maybe we’ll always be looking
like, one night I’m in the American
Old West
watching grown ass men
debate who shot who
decades ago
sheriffs & preachers
holding onto their dreams for dear life
& if anyone lets go
their fabric of masculinity
will unravel
& then where will we be?
in a better world I suppose
& I do want them to let go
unravel
& I guess that’s what I want
for everyone I care about
to let go
unravel
because for the love of God
get to the heart of what’s bugging you
what’s fucking with your identity
but there’s never any unraveling
& if it does look like unraveling
it’s a lie
that doesn’t get to the truth
& I guess that’s what we need
truth
the American Old West
& Broadway
turned on their heads
for the contents of their massive brains to pour out
to set it all ablaze
start again
be real this time
like, one night I’m in the belly
of a phoenix that doesn’t fly
it stays rooted in a city
that might not understand it
some people just come by
to light their cigarettes
on its eyes
I imagine them muttering
“Give me the fire that you see”
but you have to have really strong eyes for that
anyway, inside the belly
I’m watching four singers
deconstruct the ghost
of a songwriter
who was never alive
in the first place
a casualty of Broadway
born across the ocean
who tried & tried
to sing the truth
but failed admirably
but still a failure
a loser
but we all tend to ignore
the truth
so wouldn’t we all be losers too?
maybe that’s the truth
the great lie of Broadway
the great lie of the American
Old West
musical theater & gun fights
tell the same story
the words are different
but the songs are essentially
the same
at intermission
I get a text from Bernie Sanders
“Billionaires shouldn’t exist”
I agree
it’s like the perfect sext
for someone like me
who would skip gym class in high school
to read The Communist Manifesto
next to the statue of an old timey soldier
in Bidwell Pkwy
or was it Chapin Pkwy?
do you really care though?
thought so
either way
sometimes I think Bernie Sanders
doesn’t exist
an anti-capitalistic gunslinger
or Broadway composer
shooting songs
into our hearts
a giant ghost
formed from all the little ghosts
of our dashed dreams
what is the story he & we
are trying to tell?
who are we pretending to be?
the truth is hard to nail
but I guess we have to pretend
we’re nailing it good
because our lives depend on it
after my adventures in the American
Old West & on Broadway
I think about Captain America
now lemme explain
it was a little over a year ago
& I’m standing out front Shea’s Smith
when this bald guy walks up to me
he’s using a cane
a Star of David tattooed under his right eye
he asks me when the Bisons game lets out
I tell him it’s baseball
so the game can go all night
then suddenly he asks me
if I like camping
but before I can answer
he tells me I shouldn’t
because if I go camping
I need to watch out for rattlesnakes
that’s why he uses a cane
a rattlesnake bit him
he was camping with his sister
somewhere in Colorado
celebrating her getting off meth
he tells me it was hell getting there
a Greyhound bus from South Jersey
to the other side of the country
brewing coffee in truck stop urinals
scraping the buzz off unmarked headstones
roadside sandwich shacks
where the fried bologna
was carved from the hearts of pigs
older than your great grandparents
he tells me they were magic pigs
I tell him that bologna is many things
a history of leftovers
but he doesn’t care
when he arrived in ski country
the mountains were too much for his mind
he almost lost it
he had to be strong though
for his sister
but then there was that fuckin’ rattlesnake
in the wilderness
he was rushed to the hospital
because he was paralyzed from the neck down
they tried forcing pills down his throat
but his wall wouldn’t crumble
his soul was strong
because God’s his only doctor
it’s a miracle he’s still standing
that he’s able to walk
I ask him if his sister’s okay
he tells me that Colorado’s rough
but that Buffalo’s rougher
because here
the sins are cheaper
I ask him what brought him to Buffalo
homelessness and disability
he’s hoping the Bisons are still playing
because he has tickets for tomorrow’s game
that he wants to scalp
money he can take to the casino
to win more money
so he can return to South Jersey
he’s okay with gambling
because God’s on his side
then he asks me if I’m a believer
if I know about the lost tribes of Israel
he points to the star on his face
I tell him I do and finally introduce myself
he tells me his name is Cap
like Captain America
we start talking about the Avengers
it sounds like religious babble
eventually Cap asks what I’m doing
I tell him I saw a play
he doesn’t seem interested
but then tells me that it must be nice
pretending you’re someone else
I don’t disagree with him
I give him a cigarette
as we’re smoking
I imagine all the buildings around us
transforming into mountains
a whole bunch of addicts
trapped in caves
I imagine they’re rescued by superheroes
I imagine the star on Cap’s face
shining on a very large proscenium stage
a whole bunch of actors
pretending to be superheroes
then without warning
Cap tells me he has to go
that God watches over us
that was it
I guess it’s all about
making your words matter
whoever you are
you have a story worth telling