Art by Cyril Larvor
Recess
You are not a child anymore, though you are
approaching Recess, a rooftop bar,
with an architect and a friend of his named Moe.
Recess has a pool,
that’s the gimmick—illuminated, sparkling, a liquid jewel,
but no one swims. This seems a waste of space, also
a metaphor. But metaphor
for what? There is that density of thought, O Eleanor!,
that, in the past, has sunk your spirits and your art.
You are attempting to avoid density, not to be
confused with destiny—
The face that launched a thousand ships
must have been buoyant, thus be buoyant or
be called a whore.
You smile—first at the architect, then Moe.
Your party climbs the steps to Recess—three
members of a weak and savage race encroaching
on the insolent expression of the dark.
*
The architect knows you
biblically, but he does not know you.
You bear some responsibility for this.
Nonetheless, the architect
has observed that you would rather talk about architecture
than yourself. Obviously,
this is a facade. The architect has also observed
that you enjoy puns—
This might be wrong, but it feels so
Frank Lloyd Wright.
If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put
U and I together.
Your delight in these is unambiguous,
but now at Recess,
you are troubled by the question, Am I
enjoying this?
You have been to clubs
where people treated the dance floor like the pool at Recess—as useless—
and at least at Recess people dance. You would dance, too,
but the architect does not dance.
So you two just stand. The music is too loud
to talk. The architect leans
towards your ear. You cannot hear
the words, but words
do not seem to be the point—this turns into a kiss.
This feels nice, you think.
You like having sex with the architect. You like kissing him
by this pointless pool. Do you need to reflect
more than this?
But you do. Your tendency
to intellectualize is a curse, as is you gender,
but which is worse? This feels nice,
you think again. This means there is a price.
Post-Recess
Around 1:50 a.m., beer bottles and plastic cups are floating in the pool
and the house lights come up. Everyone files to the edge of the roof, then down
the stairs—you, the architect, and Moe, too.
At street-level in the crowd, is a man with a massive chest, wearing a pink polo
and no undershirt. You notice this
because you can see his nipples. You feel
a tinge of sympathy
you don’t usually feel
for strangers, especially not strange men. Wait! the architect says, I know
you. Did you play football? The man in the pink polo turns,
Yes.
The architect recounts the night they met—out at a bar, it sounds
like someone bought someone else a drink.
You ask the football player, Aren’t you cold?
He shrugs, I’m not scared
of catching anything. You can’t catch herpes twice!
He looks—not at you—but at the architect, then Moe. They laugh.
Or AIDS, he says. You can’t catch AIDS twice.
Then he looks at you,
the skirt. You are chastising yourself
for setting this up. I’m joking, he says.
You know I’m joking. O, you think, I get it—
You are taking someone else’s shame
and pain, and turning them
into a joke. But you just stand there.
In short, you become what Freud says
a woman should be—masochistic, passive.
The football player adds, I’d rather have herpes than a kid. Actually,
that’s not true—you can get rid of a kid. Balls
bouncing on the clay court
of your mind, leaving
little welts in red earth. You keep waiting
for the linesman to make a call.
You keep thinking, Out! Out! Out!
How can they think
this is in? You do not want to see the world this way—
as a game without umps or rules, as a game
you must play and can
never win.
But talking to men is like playing tennis
without a net.
You want to say, I’m taking Feminist Theory.
You guys can’t do this to me!
But if you say this, they will hear
a joke.
About the author:
I’m a poet who has worked as a dry-cleaner and as a radio reporter. My first book, Earnest, Earnest? (Pitt Poetry Series, 2020), won the Agnes Lynch Starrett Poetry Prize. My work has appeared in American Poetry Review, Tin House, Barrow Street, Waxwing, Willow Springs, FIELD, Copper Nickel, and other journals. Currently, I’m a Kingsbury Graduate Fellow at Florida State University, where I’m finishing my Ph.D.
In the artist’s words:
My Black Bird artist name is a wink to the crow who is an animal who is often hated by his appearance as the black cat, but who is also revered by a tremendous amount of culture and seen as one of the smarter animals capable of counting and speaking. Speaking … and I have already seen it. I have always drawn, painted and photographed. I wanted to be a cartoonist in advertising or photography, but I went to study in business and computer science. For 15 years I worked in the directions of information and computer security. 2 years ago I stopped to return in my first love the art and the human. My influences are vast; I was born in the 80s in the northern suburbs of Paris where social and cultural diversity is enormous. The 80s were a huge source of artistic inspiration. In addition to contemporary art and all other movements, there was the appearance in France of graffiti, manga, hip hop, computer science and the evolution of photography and television. All this has to influence. Since my return in the art, I exhibit in the galleries. The Lavomatik, also proposes music, the book …. ART21, a gallery in Montmartre, a district which likes and others a little everywhere. My other activity is in the human and the association. I collaborate with many associations that have been used as a means of communication and income. I collaborated with associations to help orphaned children, children in difficulty, migrants and give them the means to express themselves through Mixart art. An association for the protection of the oceans Bloom. An association against skin cancer Associations against poverty and exclusion: Emmaus, restaurant of the heart… J organizes painting workshops with children or disabled people and also grafiti classes. My inspirations are unlimited, including painting or in pictures, and I like mixing the two. My philosophical tendencies are in sharing, cohesion and construction or reconstruction away from destruction. My tips are simple. Create with your heart and share your art positively. For my art, I use all media and types of paints, but I have a preference for acrylic and aerosol: street art tools, and for digital photography and desktop publishing.
To contact me, I am in the gallery Art21, otherwise by Facebook https://www.facebook.com/The-Black-Bird-BLB-465375923644961/. My project with the origamiist Manuel Belhamissi https://www.facebook.com/Origami-custom-MBLB-concept-804841046289656/Instagram to Cyril Larvor or by mail for all personalized orders cyril.larvor@gmail.com. Long live art.
