Eden
Eden
In the formless void
of the quiet dock
a man walked
into an abandoned warehouse.
It was dark as sin,
with dirt floors and bare walls.
For seven days,
and seven nights,
he toiled.
He wired the building
with electricity,
and smiled when he turned on
the light for the first time.
He covered the floor with cement,
and had fresh water piped in
so it gushed, sparkling clean,
from the taps of the new bar,
and with the flourish of an artist
painted the walls in lambent colours:
brilliantly clear azure skies,
plump vermilion fruits,
variegated shades of feral greenery.
Never had anyone
seen such a club
so brightly lit,
and drinks so sweet,
with music that beckoned like
the clarion call of a church bell.
The first couple to enter the club,
fresh from the country,
unused to urban life,
were entranced by the DJ
who spun songs like,
"You Spin Me Round,"
"The Great Commandment,"
and "Bizarre Love Triangle."
They danced with feet as light as air,
amidst the sweaty, coupling bodies
and for refreshment
drank fruit cocktails:
blushing mai tais,
sex on the beach,
and apple martinis.
Drunk on alcohol, loud music
and the sight of slithering bodies,
they crept their way to the washroom,
and like beasts,
copulated without thought,
without fear
without shame.
The owner caught them,
and in disgust, issued a blistering scolding:
"You that I have invited into my paradise,
rutting like animals,
drink has seeped you of your innocence,
and your knowledge has become jaded."
They gathered their clothing
and stumbled outside, still slightly inebrieted
and took the slithering subway home.
The sun rose, painting rose and gold and lavender on the sea,
the fishermen raised their anchors
and threw their nets.
The owner looked outside,
turned off the lights,
and closed the doors behind him.
In the formless void
of the quiet dock
a man walked
into an abandoned warehouse.
It was dark as sin,
with dirt floors and bare walls.
For seven days,
and seven nights,
he toiled.
He wired the building
with electricity,
and smiled when he turned on
the light for the first time.
He covered the floor with cement,
and had fresh water piped in
so it gushed, sparkling clean,
from the taps of the new bar,
and with the flourish of an artist
painted the walls in lambent colours:
brilliantly clear azure skies,
plump vermilion fruits,
variegated shades of feral greenery.
Never had anyone
seen such a club
so brightly lit,
and drinks so sweet,
with music that beckoned like
the clarion call of a church bell.
The first couple to enter the club,
fresh from the country,
unused to urban life,
were entranced by the DJ
who spun songs like,
"You Spin Me Round,"
"The Great Commandment,"
and "Bizarre Love Triangle."
They danced with feet as light as air,
amidst the sweaty, coupling bodies
and for refreshment
drank fruit cocktails:
blushing mai tais,
sex on the beach,
and apple martinis.
Drunk on alcohol, loud music
and the sight of slithering bodies,
they crept their way to the washroom,
and like beasts,
copulated without thought,
without fear
without shame.
The owner caught them,
and in disgust, issued a blistering scolding:
"You that I have invited into my paradise,
rutting like animals,
drink has seeped you of your innocence,
and your knowledge has become jaded."
They gathered their clothing
and stumbled outside, still slightly inebrieted
and took the slithering subway home.
The sun rose, painting rose and gold and lavender on the sea,
the fishermen raised their anchors
and threw their nets.
The owner looked outside,
turned off the lights,
and closed the doors behind him.