october / white october
Octombrie 19, 2008 § Lasă un comentariu
Sunday, the 19th. He says you never really dream of the sun, only of clear sunny skies, but never of the thing itself. I say you never really dream of flying, only of the –
Monday the 20th. They say it’s not a bird, it’s not a plane, it’s not even superman. I’m an international wreck. Use your sunglasses to cover your crystal eyes and fly away. So good morning and hello, mister flight attendant. I left my loved ones at home. What was it like? I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin, and fuck with the stars. You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars.
I had once been America and you had been my France, my sweet Henry James-like piece of world. Now I have become some sort of tour d’Eiffel with gay mimes and french fries for those passing by, some sort of immature cote d’azur, and how well did you teach me your lessons and where did the old world go when the new one started to raise itself?
He goes on as if nothing had happened. Nothing, quite frankly absolutely sheer nothing. Wie oft? Wie lange? Bis wohin? Wie heisst das? Was bedeutet das? Ich bin fremd hier.
Every time it goes up and comes down it feels as if it was going to stop. There’s a muscle in your heart that wants a sick leave. There’s a blood vessel down there that missed a beat. Who’s been knocking on your door, sweet Irene? I’m having coffee and cereals at two in the morning while you dream of squirrels chasing off hens and of enslaved hens laying nut shaped eggs for their squirrel masters. I’m old and I’ve started wearing purple, at least some of my non-hearted half has.
au revoir, les enfants!