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duct tape drapes

there are few problems that can't be solved
with duct tape;
take for instance amphetamine-induced paranoia:
everyone is watching and the newly-hung
venetian blinds
do not go all the way to the
duct tape to the rescue.
what the paranoid will need is:
a pair of scissors,
a black and white checkered ladies evening jacket
(rescued, by the way, from ignanimous repose
on the racks of the Goodwill store),
thread and a sewing needle,
a pack of Doral cigarettes,
and, of course, the duct tape.
patience is required as the needle is
hard to thread
what with the artist's rapidly bobbing head, nervous fingers,
and pleasantly growling stomach.
after the jacket is cut to exacting standards,
the top is doubled over
and sewn to the bottom of those pesky
a cigarette needs to be smoked at this point
as parameters are determined
and aesthetic appeal taken into account.
then, ah, the delicious gray king of all
repair kits.
ooh, hear it tear off its roll.
eeh, hear it ripped to exacting length.
see how it adheres?
see how it takes those fray-prone edges
and turns them into a clean scar of fiber and gum?
see how it blends completely wrong
with all the elements of the room,
yet somehow
finds a happy place in the mind?
duct tape is the universal salve to the
misplaced moment, the conjoined flop.
the artist, once finished, can be extraordinarily proud
of his newly-created window coverings
or sock-stuffed mouse hole in the floor
or basketball shoe repair
or card table leg retrofit.
because it is the small victories
o my brother.
it is the small victories.

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