Ribbon Cutting for a Cultural Institution
I am the entertainment. Special for this occasion, I don khakis and a paper Krispy Kreme hat. Crowning glory. Performance study. I get bored, get born. From hungry and unbuckled in the back of an equipment trailer, I emerge sunny into the arc, and it feels almost new, this privilege to be consciously curated. All wind and wouldn’t you like to know, say woman and minority—I am encouraged to apply, bearing all responsibility for the percussive aftermath. The crowd licks donut glaze from their lips. I flash my pearl beauties for the photographer and feel suddenly with my periphery that my neighbors are made of brass. I think the music is dying. They’re smiling. I feel the mayor coming with his giant scissors.