viernes, 31 de julio de 2009

Sky Walk

1 comentario:

  1. Escribi estas lineas ya hace mucho mucho, pero por putadas tecnologicas, las perdi. Por fin, he conseguido re-escribirlas. Mas o menos. Es un poco largo....pero con vocabulario bastante basico por lo menos!


    Today, today
    All the town is leaving
    Upping and offing
    Sighing and sniffing
    Suitcases dragging
    Handkerchiefs waving
    in stickling sweat of July.

    All aboard for the annual exodus!
    Motorways heaving
    Cars still and stalling
    Trains chug-a-chugging
    Arms flee-fly-flapping
    Feet flip-flap-flopping
    for the start of the August quiet.

    Only they are still, alone in high room,
    cloudily, secretly, splitting the blue.
    Only they, these two, pace glaring heights
    as the white lined roof turns to red-hot night.


    Him to her:
    You are walking so high away from me.
    You are leaving like I always knew you would.
    You don’t ever look down, you don’t even look back.

    Her to him:
    I only know how it feels to walk this way.
    I have never known another way to be.
    All I can hear is anger. All I can say is please.

    Him to her:
    I will turn the skies pink for you.
    I will brighten the green for you.
    I will make new chains for you.

    Her to him:
    I have never wanted you to change the skies for me.
    I have never wanted to be green with you.
    All I ever wanted was for you to want me to turn to you.

    Her to him:
    It scares me when you look that way.
    It hurts me when you turn your face.
    Him to her:
    It blinds me when you come so close.
    I can only see you when you walk away.

    Him to her: We shrink each other with the space.
    Her to him: We lose each other in the crowds.
    Him to her: We miss each other in the noise.
    Her to him: We mold each other with our needs.


    So there they stay, alone in high room.
    Stumbling through silences, hiding shy dreams.
    Without her the skies would be blue again.
    Without her the path could be clear again.
    Torture tools were never so mean
    as these pressing wires, these violent spiked heels.
    Maybe tomorrow they will take to the hills,
    pound out demons, breathe with the wind,
    but now they are still while the empty town sleeps
    and sun-warmed stones swallow tales of the street.