Be careful what you wish for , now sitting headache,wish you were here,
Then you as kaleidoscopic as ever, decaying speed
Can you not act crazy, once there were you beyond it and now your sitting her headache and all, and then now you have got another chance to get it right what think you,?
Them watching. Dislocated strangers really. Situation : bizarre::level 1. --be there or be square show up. Put on uniform. Look busy with smile on.
Not busy? Think busy. Them watching. You suddenly become somebody from their looks. Obe’s cantos.
Don’t make a big deal. What does it take. To become kafka bug? Return find out? Well before return look into a musty museum. Google chirico.
Google Pirendello. Google antonioni, veronisi,bocaccio,.but especially chrirco. Dali.
Go out buy a loaf of bread. Russian rye. Say, deary you living in imaginary place. If you don’t, no return.
If you return with me I will make it worth your while. I know what you are thinking. But maybe it will not do. No pants not enough. We need to trip down memory lane and go through the tunnel of love. We need to forget it may not work, cause you,ve been riding this too long.
I must exist for you. You are the first person I meet tomorrow. I will say hello. Won’t tell where I just been. He might think twice. And this is how it goes.
After so much, suddenly occurs that this place is not only precious, it is divine.it is a divine place, and you are the first person I met today so that makes you special. Love to get to know you, but some decades ago may have been different. It was before the return was conceivable. Now you are I, and I am him. Its matters only where you look. Where you’re used . Where you lay your head. Where you found me crouching. Where you saw me bleed.
I return full knowing a weird crazy wind blowing from the parliament building and the haunt is on. And as soon as you get there, you are gone, and it rises to a higher level, and as soon as it happens, getting there was more important.
The rising tension, the fear that maybe you are deceiving her, and then you want to go back, into the familiar, the chore, the warm sense of responsibility of the belonging. The head throbs, and the return is on in the whistle of the locomotive, the shroud of grey white snow, the passing landscape.