Vignette 13.
translated by Gaiola
woooooaohhhhhguuuuuuuuuughuaaaaaaaoooooo
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let me tell you who I am not that whale ridden by the peg-leg named after an evil
king of Israel not that whale who engorged the prophet sent to rebuke (successfully)
the king of Nineveh not that Atlantic whale choked by a titleist, saved by a balding,
fake marine biologist. My name is
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Gaiola recruited me for this gig he rides me in a saddle guides me with a rein
bides his time in the race slides his legs down my side do you see how they end
in undulating fish tails tides me over till he returns me to my primordial home
Gaiola and I are racing to win more wall space for Street Art em Portugal
already Gaiola’s head is painted over with a green splotch at my sides some tags
peek out I am eating them a pink tide washes over my flank it is pictorial blood
why am I degrading myself to do his bidding Gaiola promised me a spot in the bay
distant from the fleets seeking to make their quotas my deep call resounds
for miles just as Gaiola is his paint I am my sound.
woooooooooohgbuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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