Poetic License: Kong Agonistes
Shipped from Skull Island for display,
giant ape Kong escapes and carries
a blonde up the Empire State Building.
Not in the middle but at the end of things,
I lie broken on this New York sidewalk
Outside of Longchamps Restaurant, just closing.
How I got here I’m really not too sure.
My mind blurs like the mists on Skull Island .
Where I once was King and they called me Kong.
No ambulances free to care for me:
Humans first, gorilla road kill last,
Like always, law of the Asphalt Jungle.
Where are you, Barbie Fay? You exited
Without a word before the movie ended.
Are you back safe but unhappy with
Your peewee lover in that fleabag room
I pulled you out of with my hairy arm?
Not coming to gape at what’s left of Kong
Who swept you up to the top of the world?
Is Beauty now too busy for the Beast
Broken on the sidewalk, outside Longchamps?
You were a WOW of an improvement on
The “Brides of Kong” they’d been sacrificing
Since I became too tall for the NBA
And Momma Kong ran off with a T-Rex,
So I tore you free of that altar like
A child unwrapping Barbie on Christmas.
Eager, unsure of how to play with you,
I held you gently in the palm of my hand,
My pinky larger than your whole body.
“Misfits, The Movie” keeps running through my mind.
If I had been downsized to pygmy scale
Like Mighty Joe Young – Fay, you and I
Could have done some great things together, on
And off screen. As it turned out, they settled
For Beauty and the Beast, G-Rated,
Where size never matters, nor consummation,
And lots of phony stop-motion battles
With dummy dinosaurs and rubber serpents –
I, Kong, pummeling, overpowering
The pre-historic predators – giant
Gorilla hero of every girl’s dreams.
Why I fell for that gas bomb trick or how
The hell they dragged me to New York City
I can’t remember but suddenly I’m
Up on a stage, restrained by some puny
Chrome steel chains and shackles which can’t
Hold down even a Skull Island grasshopper,
And there are all of these peewee humans:
The men dressed like penguins, the women
Like ostriches waiting to be plucked
By the gorilla of their dreams. They bring
Out Barbie Fay, dressed in the sexiest dress
The Hays Office would allow and I’m propelled
Right out of the chains towards her – still not sure
Of what to do with her. I knock down the walls
Of buildings, like Samson, not caring if
All falls down on me, rampage on the streets,
Play spaghetti with elevated trains,
Stomp on cars, hurl humans into the air,
Thrust my huge hairy arm in and out
Of bedrooms, pulling out blonde after blonde,
Discarding them like banana peels,
Until Eureka! I find my Barbie Fay
And together we start downtown, looking
For the highest place to get high on this island:
The Chrysler Building -no way I’ll rest my rump
Upon that spire – Empire State Building!
There she is, ready to be mounted, conquered,
Story by story, built right to my scale,
Barbie Fay in my right hand, up, up, up –
I’m at the top and those gnatmobile biplanes
With their peashooters start pestering me,
I swat down one of them but those pinprick
Machine-gun bullets start taking their toll,
I have to lay down my Barbie Fay, who
For all her writhing and screaming was
Looking forward to some kind of ravaging.
The planes keep pestering, I get dizzier
And dizzier, and down,
And break upon this sidewalk! The End now:
Police lieutenant boasting, “Planes got him.”
Armstrong correcting, “Beauty killed the Beast.”
I moan, “Wrong, gravity.” but no one hears –
And Fay does not come by to say farewell.