always liked being in love, like with the guy on the
highway tonight on my way home from union city. we're
cruising up 885 at 80 and there is some kind of clusterfuck
ahead, a full dozen cop cars and flares and a half dozen
mashed and toasted cars. as i slow down to about jogging
speed i notice the car in the lane to my right is hopping
up and down. it's a little old trashed subaru and the
driver, some guy with a bleached white-blond crewcut,
is taking advantage of the fact the the front shocks
on this thing are toast to make the whole car bounce
like a crazed animal to some music he's playing. his
bumper sticker says " Speak Your Mind, Even If
Your Voice Shakes"
just thought that was so cool.
know that part of the movie where the heros girlfriend
has just flown off to australia with her new love, and
he's driving through town- it's raining- and the music,
maybe sam cooke, is in the foreground, everything else
is muted, conversations barely register, and he's staring
through the rain streaked windshield driving, driving,
going past all the places they used to kiss. and the
next scene, ten months later, they have to skip over
the ten months, it's just to damn boring, he's dead
to the world- but something must save him, or it's a
total wipe out?
cold and airless, like the moon, where it is, after
all, serene- the shadows blood dark and silent. ...this
is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful
wife. i am still here.
sadder and wiser,
but we're in a movie so there's some kind of shock coming..
in comes the attacking foe, or the flood, or the abandoned
child, or he just finds an old love letter fallen behind
house was tall and very very full. i wanted the woman
in chrome mylar to rub up against me, but she didn't
know me, so she just sqeezed past. i knew i was in the
right place at the right time, something is happening
here but you don't know what it is, do you, mr jones.