i have a wonderful friend with a great taste and talent in music and we often seem to set upon separate paths when i stubbornly and childishly claim every single time that "i have to connect--click--in some personal way!" and i can pinpoint that with many that one very string of heart that someone pulls every time i hear their voice read their words see their faces feel their warmth or stare at their smile or some other crazy way of them that makes me believe only i myself can see them that way--could be family friends musicians poets writers beautiful people with lights coming out of their eyes and their hands and their fingertips--god fingertips are so personal and so beautiful they are absolutely my favorite part of the body--
and i have to make all mine and i have to care for all--so days and months and years i think and i finally cracked open one box of pearls it's bob man i always thought what it was that made me want to listen to him and hear him and read him and i always thought it was the awesomeness of lyrics (which is definitely) but there are so many that have great lyrics that don't get to me that way--and tonight
the weirdest thing happens and i get scared and i get nervous and i have some old dylan concert playing in the back and its not a good anxiety but a bad one that gets to down when you're either too tired or too drunk or too upset to begin with---anyways so there and then i see it--what it is about bob--
he soothes me--not in a fatherly mature calm sane type of way god no who can feel sane in the middle of sad eyed lady or not feel out there and stranded in nobody 'cept you but in a silent way in a way when someone stands far away and stares at you beautifully or like someone you see on the bus who has so much feeling in their eyes--or in their FINGERTIPS--that you just feel like what the hell with the class you're failing love you're wasting person you're missing when someone has such feeling in their eyes or like your mother taking you shopping and it doesn't matter if you buy anything or like finding a friend around the corner who has time for just one cup of tea or like randomness anyways--anyways sorta like "locating silence" that's how bob deals with me and i deal with bob--because he soothes me in silence and in peace without overworking or overpushing and that peace and that silence is why i crawl right back---
that wonderful friend of mine must feel now pretty freaked out see this is me and i'm funny and useless that way and i love people for their eyes and for their smiles and for their ways of hugging you back and i love the randomest most strangest for the tiniest dumbest things and trust me my good dear friend in this world we and i and you and bob lives at times the absolute stranger is the least stranger of all---
good night all you random people with random beautiful ways
good night lorca hating new york noticing engines and tears
good night whitman with your beautiful beard and your butterfly made out of my stomach
good night pound
good night jim--your angelness your purity
good night ginsberg and kerouac and the hearts spilled on to the streets as i pick them up like flowers and stuff them down my ears and my throat and my eyes
good night salinger safe and sound and alive for all
good night friends foes family
good night earth rain and snow and sunrise and dawn and birds in the morning at the puddles of rain
good night this beautiful city city of no one else city of mine city of ancient roman beauty and eastern beauty and western beauty Paradise city city in which you can feel like every song was written for it
good night random person i think of randomly and million more who wastes seconds thinking of people wasting seconds
good night bob--
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