Tuesday, September 08, 2015
The Expatriate Falls Out of Love
We're on the Reification Road again
Driving in the idea of a black sedan
Through some West Texas of the mind
"Make it real!" Vikki says
"Make it real right now!"
That night in a formless motel
In the incomplete sound of wind-chimes
The full flicker of neon
I look in my eyes in the mirror
And see castles
(Why are there castles in my eyes?
Why are there the serried crags
Of a Welsh hillside topped with ruins?}
"Let's go!" says Vikki
"Let's erase this joint!"
I will listen to Bitches Brew
The deconstruction of cool
I will see those slabs of layered color
Assembled by Rothko
I will eat pho in a
And place my memories in a line
Split by the unconformity of jetlag
"That place is old!" says Vikki
"Make something new!"
The silvery shimmer of a pedal steel guitar
Rises over the machine-tooled country
That slides from the speakers
Music as distant and flawed as the moon
And it only makes sense here
On Reification Road