lunes, 26 de septiembre de 2011

Maxi DIA

In the bright light
Told me it is raining in Paris

Raindrops falling from the noses of the grey statues at Pere Lachaise
And all that…

Today I left the place,
Still stoned under the Texas stars ,
Just after she buttoned my shirt

It was 4 am
And she called me to tell me she was missing me
Blowing between the scars in my chest,
Feeling how the sun sets
all that dust in the face
at the Thunderbird’s swimming pool

I am felling like an angry leach in this department store
with some fat girls trousers on and your boyfriend’s pseudo sailor t-shirt on
luckily I still have my black cowboy boots and my old underwear on
so I can check the bras with some distant feeling of dignity

I am looking for you like a big city kid looks for UFOs in the cotton night
numb fingers
bad thoughts
not even seeing the signs
mistaking the airplanes for huge polyester insects
in the stoned black sky

There were white helicoidal galaxies in the shower
storms in the big dry plains
a huge orange sun at the edge of the blade,
some cut up Coney Island memories,
a car going 120 miles per hour,

this could be the end of my days
the beginning of yours

Einstein is sad
a new infinite day for those travelling pigeons
with shinny silver smiles
and golden credit cards

Brian Jones is sad
and crippled mothers
and half closed eyes
at the end of the song
Mississippi John Hurt
whichever song

a poem inside my guts for months

under a pile of rain drops
and plane wings
and caffeine cans
and endless phone calls

in a ship
watching Manhattan on the slide
her white and blue dress giving me a weird Marseille like blindness

broken shells in her bag
the horrible apartment buildings in Long Island City
plasma TVs
dirty schemes
on the pristine East River
a dark scary humid shadow

this poem

would never get out

until right now
until this very night
in the middle of the roaring desert