<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class="">Surrealist May Day 1984<div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><div id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_19104" style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class=""><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_19238" class="">The workers of the world have united only in going to work, like on any other day when the steelworkers are poured into vats of molten iron, the chemical workers are poisoned, and the auto workers are run over; but outdoors the air breathes the throb of spring's pulse.</span><br class=""></div><div class="signature" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18876" style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><div class="MsoNormal" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18875"><div dir="ltr" id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18977" class=""><span id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18978" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18980" class="">People who have not been out all winter have doffed their heavy clothing and carry banners in the street saying, 'Kindness, Please', silent hordes who have never spoken their hearts.<br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18981" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18982" class="">Eagles drop good luck amulets all over the city from their talons. Sitting on a park bench, I try to follow out the lines of my palm into the future, but keep winding up in fog.<br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18983" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18984" class="">There's another parade from the opposite side of town, a parade of heavy-breasted mothers chanting, 'We did our best! ' But following them are dwarves with crystal balls imploring them to search their hearts more deeply.<br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18985" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18986" class="">Orangutans in tuxedos dine at the best restaurants in town, worship at chic liberal chapels, and drive cars on obsessed trails like vicious bloodhounds in order to make dentists' appointments on time.<br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18987" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18988" class="">Hoboes are waking in the parks, beginning to walk. By the time they reach the classiest hotels, they too are magically dressed in tuxedos, and tap-dance in the lobbies. In comes a singing waiter with free horseduerves, crooning in a voice like Caruso, 'After this, you're on your own.'<br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18989" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18990" class="">A conference of Surrealist painters is going to City Hall to confess that they never meant <i id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18991" class="">anything</i> by their symbolism. They have voted to ask to be put in jail. <br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18992" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18993" class="">Elvis Presley and James Dean types have run out of cigarettes in their t-shirt sleeves, gotten nervous, and gone to the Neurology floor of the Hospital to see if maybe an operation could make them like everybody else.<br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18994" class=""><br id="yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1461894291329_18995" class="">From beyond the sea comes an invasion of the Armies of Compassion, about to disembark from their troop carriers on the river, bearing cannons of Love. Their waving banners read, 'Everybody is a Prophet' and 'Flowers Are Banners, Too'. They have wise smiles and deep eyes, and their onrush promises to radically alter the situation.<br class=""><br class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>- Max Reif</span></div></div></div></div></body></html>