Vibe and Melancholy

10 Jul

the problems that assault me every day morph into sugary preserves on buttered toast in the middle of the night
as if to ameliorate the constant daily grinding of the soul of the bone
i walk among melancholy and stubborn denial and feel like the guy with the black hat the curmudgeon
there are no great ones left to document the truth
no Orwells no Darwins nothing none
just young hip men with young hip cars and young hip smart phones
looking to bring back with fake polaroids
what they imagine was the glorious past
but i lived through that and nothing about it was glorious
nothing about anything man made is glorious
if you walk through it without corrective lenses
he was born and then he lived and then he died
will be what they’ll write on my headstone if there ever will be one
or maybe just “Anonymous”
there is a line from a good film (only a few of those left) goes:
you can get busy livin or you can get busy dyin
but you can also get busy dreaming of how it used to be
or how it could be or how it should be or how someone else says it is
and that’s the most dangerous kind of busy

they bring me tomatoes from their gardens
i take them and wash them properly of sprayed chemicals
look at how beautiful they are i say to her
there’s a scene in a famous good film (only a few of those left)
the man brings home to his wife a large pear wrapped in paper
he holds it behind his back as a surprise
as she busies herself in the small tenement with setting the table
and then he gives her the fruit and her face opens up
and says what a beautiful pear in italian while the baby screams in his crib
it’s not a pivotal scene in the complex scheme of a most important american film
but it speaks for me to the fragility of what is daily life
and what we think it should be or what we dream it could be
i’ll bet that at the end of our individual timelines
despite an obtuse denial of the truth
there will be an innumerable amount of disappointed people
and even then they’ll carry dreams of pearly gates and chubby boys with wings

i say: we’ll slice them up and throw them in a bowl
with olive oil and salt and pepper
and maybe cut up some onion
it’s how we used to eat tomatoes in the old country
and then i am reminded of the seaside in the summer
hot air mixed with cigarette smoke and Radio Free Europe on transistor radios
and gypsies walking by the edge of the water
carrying buckets of steamed hot salted corn on the cob
that’s melancholy seeping through the soft tissues old boy
we’ll slice them up and throw them in a bowl
with olive oil and salt and pepper and chopped up basil leaves
it’s the only way to eat fresh tomatoes
it could be our lunch
go on then she says i’ll get some fresh bread
and that becomes our saturday

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2 Responses to “Vibe and Melancholy”

  1. Ava Joe 12/07/2010 at 11:24 AM #

    This piece is sublime.

  2. Lx 13/07/2010 at 9:15 AM #

    Thank you much.

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