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

Strip-malled restaurant

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
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