16 June, 2009

counting the dusks

" I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love.
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn? 

And suddenly it all made sense - the senselessness of clinging to cocoons of familiarity, the coterie of compatriots and yearning after my lost grails.
       I'm loving the city more than ever, the ever-present symphony of honking cars and rumbling trucks. the curve of the bye-pass lights like a golden necklace that had fallen on the dark ground. torn from some ivory neck ...
       i want to read all books, listen to my infernal friend's poetry, eat at Mocambo and the dessert at Flurys (like the old days, remember?). talking glibly of guevara, Gabriel's Room and guernica. i'm remembering the two of you more than ever - in every scuffled tread, every dusty turn of the road and the pangs of solitude raked across the bared breast of a lucent evening sky. and others too...
the heady laughter that seemed to last forever, the thoughts that soared with the swelling tenors. the firm belief that i had only to spread my arms before the lusty wind to streak into the azure vistas. and of course lemon-tea had in the Messala-BenHur style.

 this is all about me now. as it well should be. i felt that by gathering the scraps of countless broken lives i would have a whole one to live for myself. As if the shards of a vase can hold a bouquet of faded lilacs wilting in this heat. i forgot - we don't get lilacs here so often.
    i have tried to live solely on the gasps of forgotten evenings and rare gusts of glory that passed away as swiftly as a high-school summer.
    i have aimed for the sky and now must contend with the treetops. Correction: i had aimed for all the skies in every world whose gloamings had warmed me.

maybe it was worth it.

   but even today . . . i cannot but feel a better man taking a detour through Middleton Row. a senseless homage to the ghosts of lost yesterdays.

"Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
Come in, she said, an'
I'll give ya shelter from the storm.

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