Ghosts

[Written for and performed at the Celebration of the Other Arts (COToA) Festival, Delaware Water Gap, Pennsylvania, September 7, 2018, at the Castle Inn.]

There is water here.

Its flowing under your moldy feet.

Do you feel it?

The river.

People keep talking about it.

I know its here, I think.

The man who taught America to sing.

The blender man.

Frederick Malcolm Waring.

Glee club reject.

Banjo orchestra prefect.

You gotta be a football hero,

To get along with all the girls.

Fred was the fourth member of the Beastie Boys.

Breezing along with the breeze.

Wasn’t that the B side of Black Star?

Fred was so dope

White college kids put his picture

Next to Bob Marley 

And smoked weed.

Most white guys 

Can’t rock dreads.

Fred did.

It must have been the banjo.

Or the Miracle Mixer.

There’s no such thing as an ugly millionaire.

Wiggle your feet.

Splash. 

Monsieur Antoine Dutot bubbles up.

The water is red with the blood of Haitians.

Don’t be afraid.

Or turn away. 

Your moldy feet will only fester.

The Lenni-Lenape have been replaced by steakhouses.

Don’t be afraid of the ghosts.

Or the sweat stains on your white cotton socks.

Wiggle your toes.

Make sure they’re still numb.

Swim naked in the river with babies.

Just breeze along with the breeze,

Trailin’ the rails, 

Roamin’ the seas,

Like the birdies that sing in the trees,

Pleasin’ to live, 

Livin’ to please.

This is America.

You’re here.

I’m here.

He’s here.

Facts can’t be denied.

Your facts.

My facts.

His facts.

Ghosts. 

There is water here.

Its flowing 

Under your moldy feet.

Do you feel it?

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