Been There, Done That, Will Do It Again.
Last night we were sitting under a canopy
At a large banquet table
Attended by servants
Who brought fine wines and waters
And plate after plate of exquisite food.
Delicate beef, fish and octopus.
As in Da Vinci’s Last Supper
The master sat in the center
And we craned our necks
To catch some tidbit from his lips
That would open our minds
So we could be like him.
Generous and kind,
Magnanimous and wise.
Suddenly the centuries condensed
And the time space collapsed.
I remembered the event in every past epoch.
In this same place, at this same table,
Under this same tent.
The same discussion of the esoteric way.
“Four hundred years ago” I said, “Shakespeare died.”
“We’ve done this many times.”
There was the funeral scene in Satyricon
When they eat the dead poet.
The body of Christ, The body of Christ.
“I feel guilty when I eat octopus” said the poet next to me.
“The question is, ‘how guilty?'” I said.
“Not guilty enough” came the obvious answer
As the knife cut through the tentacle.
“Better a moment of nausea
For a lifetime of wealth.” Fellini said.
We’ve done this many times.
We’ll do it again.
* image of Lazaro Godoy
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