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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2003-11-08 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] | Înscris în bibliotecă de bb
don’t have any visual aids
Or tactile aids No olfactory aids I flew here After some detours I saw Bruce Springsteen At the Weisman Museum In all his cars on all those lonely roads What would we have done without the car radio? You were with me in the car People sometimes tell me I pulled over Until they were done you made my cry Or laugh you pissed me off And I wasn’t even singing I am glad I kept you company My voice has been inside a lot of cars I am embarassed Who knows What you were really doing? Not as much as listening to Bruce, I’m sure. I got here in a thousand cars I made a movie about a car A red Cadillac talked with my voice I channeled it Humans without cars are sick The Martian observers said Snails that lost their shells All my Romanian friends are sick Eighty percent of the world is sick But they are sick together When a song makes them amorous or lonely There is no place they can go to immediately I was once small and scared in my father’s Black Packard in the 1950s Everyone was afraid of my father Because my father had a car I was scared because there was Someone else in the car with us Sometimes there were five or ten Other people in the car with us They were invisible and I was very small Those people, said someone who hated my father, Are the men he has arrested Their shadows stayed behind I could always see them For many years I forgot about them Then I became the Perfect Passenger The Twin in the Womb The Twin of the Perfect Driver Neal Cassidy’s brother Well, that was Jack Kerouac actually He was always Neal Perfect Passenger But this is not about me It’s about something a lot scarier Something without eyes Something without hands Something without a nose Indeed something without a body Rides inside your car It’s the Invisible Passenger The Consummate Passenger The Perfect Invisible Hitchhiker You don’t remember you stoppped for In nineteen-sixty something He’s been in your car ever since In all your cars ever since Every one of your cars the nicer Roomier snazzier cars riding up Through the decades like your income Or down it doesn’t matter He doesn’t care You gave him a ride and he will Be with you forever What hasn’t he seen What hasn’t he heard What hasn’t he felt What hasn’he sniffed What hasn’t he licked Everything He is not alone There is also a blind man in your car With an exaggeratedly sensitive skin And a deaf guy who sniffs everything Anda deaf blind guy who hears very well And a guy who is mostly tongue You picked them all up hitchhiking In nineteen sixty or ninety seventy something And they’ve been in your car ever since In all your cars ever since And they are not the only ones there are more Specialized pale beings picked up by your grandfather Or grandmother and then by your father and mother In nineteen forty fifty sixty seventy or something Who rode in their cars until your folks died or got too old To drive anymore and then they moved into your car All your cars and are now in there every time you take the wheel They are the Perfect Passengers The Consummate Passengers And they’ve never spilled anything They’ve never said anything They’ve never interfered in your domestic squabbles They said nothing when you were mean to your children They didn’t laugh when you cried They didn’t care when you farted or jacked off They never questioned where you were going They just rode along and fed on everything With the one sense that made the most sense Which is why they live long very long Long enough to outlive you and move Into your children and your grandchildren’s cars The Consummate Passengers One of them feels through the fabrics of the past There is more there rolls and rolls of natural and synthetic Covers for much forgotten interior Another records things said inside the car One of those things said inside a car That can only be said inside a car We are collecting an anthology Of things said inside a car That can only be said inside a car It is called Things Said Inside a Car I told you not to I told you so What is that supposed to mean What’s her/his name anyway If I wasn’t going to do this I would This very minute I didn’t have anything to do with it They made me do it That’s my business If they don’t shut up right now I’ll have to do something Go ahead and kill me Do you want to get out right here Go ahead Can you touch that a little Not on your life buster Can’t you see how pretty it is? It’s not real money What are you looking at you’ll get us killed They are your children too And he hangs a story on each of these things And the anthology keeps getting huge Nobody’s going to publish it Not even a literary press Years pass everything is recorded Oh velour Oh Chrisler Cordoba Corinthian leather Oh Japanese limo with swimming pool Oh Letterman aftermath limo! Oh sadness and horror of all the Invisible Passengers in the car! For me the best thing is getting out at the light But I will always ride I will never get out at the light I can no longer live in pedestrian countries I am permanently strapped in the baby seat With all those people around me Mom and Dad can’t see them Maybe they saw them once when they made me in the back seat That was my double womb conception God didn’t throw them out of the car I was the only one driven from paradise When I grow up I will re-enact my conception The future is a series of better and better furnished wombs Eventually we will not need to leave our cars at all We will be in paradise and we will be one with glass Chrome and nauga Look the Martians will say They have cured themselves |
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