Bouba & Kiki, Vol II: Is Dirty / Sounds Clean · Track 90 · closer
Vespers at the Coral Pulpit (Closing)
Album closer. The whole cast — Bouba, Kiki, Sisukiro, Pemba, Reverend Goss, Mrs. Patterson, Cousin Hornswoggle — at the coral pulpit at low tide. They sing the Greek. They sing the Yiddish. They sing the French. They sing the Anglican benediction. The album ends in the exact center of the South Pacific, with two children, raised by monks, holding the words.
Lyrics
The tide pulls back its blanket. It leaves the bones of the world bare for an hour. This pulpit isn't made of wood or stone. It's made of coral, and it breathes with the sea. We brought no candles. The sun is enough. The Reverend plants his little cross in the sand. Mrs. Patterson smooths her dress, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Cousin Hornswoggle, for the first time all year, is silent. He holds a hymnal with hands that know locks and jokes. Pemba watches the outrigger canoe rock on the water. And the children... Bouba and Kiki... they hold the book. Their book. Σῶμα. Ψυχή. Body. Soul. The old Greek, sharp as salt. The light goes copper, then violet. The seabirds make their last calls. We are in the exact center of everything, a tiny island of people on a temporary island of coral. Kiki turns a page. The paper is soft from the sea air. Bouba points to a word. לייב און לאַכן. Live and laugh. The Yiddish, warm as bread. Here, where the ancestors are supposed to whisper from the reef... the words lose their shame. Quim and Kyrie. Pizzle and Peace. They are just sounds. Just shapes the mouth makes. Just the long, long story of the body. They are the dictionary. They are the prayer. Par amour. Par la lumière. By love. By the light. The French, clear as water. The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God... And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, be amongst you and remain with you always. Amen. The water kisses our ankles. The pulpit begins to sink back into the sea. The cross is taken up. The book is closed. But the children hold it. In the dark, on the long boat ride home, two children, raised by ghosts and monks, are holding all the words.