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Liquid Legacy by David Mastroianni
published in Volume 2, Issue 2 on April 3rd, 1995

 Sometimes when I enter the sanitary gallery
 I get no choice in the flushnrun rush.
 I step up whenever I can,
 study the wall,
 pull the plunger and leave.
 An honorless duty.
 
 But this is a moment of luxury.
 Alone, I have four drooping white lips
 inviting me.
 I make a measuring frown, I pace like a sergeant.
 Three sterile puddles, transparent and lifeless
 (very well).
 But the fourth pool is marked
 by one who was here before me.
 A rich amber spring of lifestuff.
 Lean in and find it fragrant with the scent
 of human endeavor.
 Some may call me a follower or worse
 but I sure don't pass up the chance of joining a great cause.
 I feel the warm thickness of my blood at the thought
 of contributing to one man's work
 to make it something greater.
 Respectfully, I approach this forbidden aqua vitae
 and let spill my humble gift,
 my wet, closest flesh-friend of the past fifteen minutes.
 No plunge into the deep below for him,
 I shan't cast him down.
 He shall shine in this room,
 an acrid beacon to the parade of release.
 
 Once I saw a masterpiece 
 nearly the color of coffee.  Sadly,
 I was too dry to join that effort.
 That stuff is pregnant with power.
 The Waters of Creation too were dark.

 I back away.  An ochre ghost dances under the surface
 for a few seconds, and fades away,
 sacrifices himself to further gild the water.
 I feel myself a solid achiever, in love with myself and my kind,
 who dare to build glory from the simple
 or crude.
 Someday I may call on them all to march with me.
 And they will come, not my followers,
 but brethren,
 aspiring to take part in bringing forth
 humanity's one great monument.
 Coarse carvings in stone come and go like bugs or weeds,
 but water is something eternal.  It will pull down the world
 before it passes away.
 Put aside chisels and paintbrushes,
 and let the primordial flow freely from your guts.
 It has an honesty you won't find in any art gallery.
 Do you truly want to leave great works behind?
 Have you slipped out of your sanitary bit and harness?
 Then join me.
 Form a row along the shore.
 Together we can turn the oceans bronze!

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