The lamb seems right out of place,
Yet the Broadway street scene finds a focus in its face.
Somehow it's lying there,
Brings a stillness to the air.
Though man-made light, at night is very bright,
There's no whitewash victim,
As the neons dim, to the coat of white"--Peter Gabriel
I always liked the way that the lamb who lies down on Broadway has nothing to do with the rest of the story, but is just lying there. Sometimes I like the way that an image can become part of a conversation which really has nothing to do with anything in the conversation. It hovers, somehow, in mid-air, completely irrelevant to anything, and yet somethow more poignant than everything. It's like distracting oneself from some weighty inner issue to try to visualize seven sets of seven swans. Why imagine forty nine swans in mid-air? I can't imagine. But the distraction can be nice. The imagination is a powerful thing--a Black and Decker tool waiting to drill down into the deep, powerful things beneath. One can't force a non-sequitur into a situation and have it take root; however, if properly planted, one can certainly bloom quite nicely. I'd elaborate more on this issue, but I'm trying instead to think about a concrete tiger tank.