MISS CAPOTE: ANSWERED PRAYERS
“Truman Capote was a chronic and
habitual liar and mythomane, and
also a writer of outré but certifiable
genius, although oddly enough
never considered true camp.”
—James McCourt, Queer Street:
Rise and Fall of an American Culture
(1947-1985)
_______________
Perhaps there’s no such “thing” as—
a “non-fiction” novel as Capote opined
But rather after exhausting his Fiction—
he turned to Non-Fiction to Fictionalize?
__________________
Having mined his own bildungsroman—
for the gold, diamonds & rubies of life
He had no where else to go to be a liar—
than the rest of the world out there
__________________
It could be New York, jet-setting around—
the world like the bored rich seem to do
It could be High Society gossip striptease—
fabulating, imagining, even telling lies
_________________
So much so that he had to get outta town—
go somewhere far away, dumb & backward
Where he could get away with his inveterate—
ingratiating, flamboyant magic realism?
__________________
Just real enough to make you think it’s true—
even worming his way into a convict’s mind
Doing it better than even an ex-con does—
becoming a con-artist & learning the trade
________________
Most ex-cons don’t consider telling the truth—
to be much good for surviving life in prison
Dick Hickcock was pretty smooth at it—
cashing bad checks, taking advantage of chicks
_____________________
He was able to con Perry Smith into robbing—
the Clutters out there in the middle of nowhere
Perry was pretty vulnerable to lying & stealing—
but the real con-artist was Truman Capote
________________
Truman weaseled his way into Perry’s confidence—
just like he did with the tipsy High Society dames
Getting them to tell all the juicy gossip & secrets—
then spilling the beans & spreading the dirt
______________________
The same with low-life gimpy gay Perry Smith—
milking the Clutter Murder Case outta him but good
Swishing thru the halls of the Lansing Prison—
Zeroing in on Perry with an unerring snobbisme
__________________
Ingratiating himself there in that prison cell—
like the Côte Basque on East Fifty-fifth Street
As if it were some NYC chic restaurant—
Lafayette, The Colony, La Grenouille, La Caravelle
______________
Capote wanted the dirt before Perry cooled—
stuff even the Topeka shrinks didn’t know
Dick Hickcock smirked at Miss Capote—
replaced this time with a REAL con-artist
_________________
All the way from New York High Society—
to Death Row there in Lansing Prison
The way to get ANSWERED PRAYERS, honey—
is to lie, cheat and steal the TRUTH
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