Talismans, names, symbols, reminders all over the place. Youre wearing them, youre crashing your cars into them. All I hear on the phone, you, holding that stupid black rectangle up to your head, the one they call the black mirror? All youre doing is telling twenty people a day what youre going to do with your life when you have the time. The prayer becomes the lifestyle. In pain, in love, in striving, all you have to do is utter a name to yourself and youre writhing on the floor. Okay, youre still standing there, but some part of your body is melting like a chocolate kiss with desire and writhing on the floor while you wash your dish or cross that busy intersection. Remember a face and you are hidden in a closet. Remember a city, a smell, a type of exhaust, a noise in the trees, the sound of a heating vent that makes an aspiration like Marilyn Monroe drawing in a big breath before exploding with laughter. How did that cluster of cells in your brain stem become more effective than an airplane? Transportation? These are our signs, our symbols, our songs. There? Who is really there? Now? What are you talking about? We are walking inventories, watch us prowl the arcade of fallen memory.
Posted on: Sun, 09 Nov 2014 03:29:20 +0000
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