The Day Theodore Lost his Fight for Nuance

     (in American politics,

         or, the pseudo-socio-political discourse)

He walked in gooey-soled supportive footwear across the Stone Arch Bridge over the Mississippi River to his office in downtown Minneapolis every weekday morning. He stopped buying disposable cups to hold hot coffee in his hands for the walk, and he stopped disposing the cups. He didn’t listen to music or a podcast, so his mind could stay light, so he could notice the dynamics of ice chunks falling down the little dam on the river. He timed his breath to his feet and tried to exhale out both nostrils, so the wind flew in both directions and kept his head between his thigs. For three breaths it was nice, then …

     “That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re a fucking…”

Hmmmmmmmmmm.

     “STRAIGHT”

Mnnnnnnnnnrghhhhhhhhhh.

    “WHITE”

Tshttttttttttt

    “BOY!”

A boy. Excited by the boundless expense of a long weekend or winter break. Crying after a bad haircut. Trying on his mom’s long long scarf as a headdress, imagining it was hair.

Hair’s not trailing him across the bridge over the Mississippi.

On dates (every once in a while) a girl sits and arranges locks of hair. Onto her shoulder, or over her shoulder.

     “STRAIGHT”

Straight dreams about a man with long hair.

     It wasn’t too long,

         – it just went down to…

             – it didn’t even reach his collarbone.

Halfway across the bridge he remembered suspension bridges, what happens at resonant frequency. When the pace of steps align with the natural harmonies of the cables. That they shake.

This bridge is stone. Across the Mississippi. It’s 8AM. But his head isn’t staying between his thighs.

     “WHITE BOY”

The bridge is too shaky.

So he turns on his phone, puts the headphones on.

     And lets the water jump on to him.

Image: Alternative version of album artwork for My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (Music Album by Ye, fka Kanye West), George Condo. Paint/Digital, 2010.