The Dream

I got to Miami Basel and no one was there.
I asked the manager at the Sagamore Hotel what the hell was going on, and he said,
"Oh, that. They had to cancel all those fairs. Not enough interest."
I felt like a Tony Oursler head with bulging eyes and a twisted mouth.
"What??!! Do the Rubells know about this? Where is Jeffrey Deitch?"
Distressed, I bought a Cuban coffee and walked down Collins Avenue.
A cab passed me, and I could have sworn that my grandparents were inside, sitting quietly.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
I turned right at 20th Street and hit the beach. The palms were blowing.
My BlackBerry was warm. I was texting and calling like crazy.

posted by the Contemporary