but if I got a condo
on a cloud
then I guess you could
stay at my place
I'mma get one...
Dude called me breakneck crazy 'cause I'm choking on air in
spin-town, New Mexico.
And I can't raise my eyes to look around.
The streets fly by, city lights-ugly, crazy mountains and clouds,
cumbia blare
blurs to everything, blurs to nothing,
blurs
because I love you.
man said, broke-down crazy: driving through neon desert
paradise; "And tell her,"
someone said.
The light-up buzz at dark, dusty festivity, everyone too loving,
and "pretty lights,"
someone points.
and I see them, and I don't care.
And she's nowhere:
The wild, frenzied absence of nowhere, dirty nowhere, windy
streets, robot-people going nowhere, people staring-off, with no music, no
beat: cold boring wind, ugly boring library, long boring papers, bitter boring coffee,
nowhere, and the fucking lights...
gas
pedal drops, car leaps out, and some sappy, contrived shit
bumps out the radio, and I'd rather be here than anywhere,
except it hurts:
how
can I tell you when all I can say is that giants are fighting above my head,
fighting in the bright stars, and rumbling loud across the wide, dry horizon? That
the weight of absence is too heavy and too light, a smothering desolation? How
can I tell you I'm alone when I'm surrounded? How can I tell you when you don't care?
Love is a stupid thing to write on.
man was like,
crazy.
And I can't raise my eyes.
And I love you.
