FRONTIERLAND

My car is a pretty little boy, so quiet and so fast, a sweet and tender little thing, so fragile on the road, driving like a boat, waves pounding towards us like roads. Like driving somewhere I have never been, like a house with a garden and that kind of a life I have never seen, like a party like the one where I met you. Kissed some lips, I liked new kisses on such a sweet little mouth. And you were bigmouthed with sweet kisses. The house, the car, the boat, the road, the waves and the sweet little kisses, like that pretty little boy driving so fast as if life was in discussion as in one of many. America you say, I do not know this, I am different like a boy on a boat sailing towards some distant, something else, like a girl in a car. Kissing that sweet little boy driving too fast like me

DRIVING IN MY CAR

Walking was always boring, my feet were too slow to show the world, what a place it is the world, and what of me? I like driving in my car, my beautiful and honest little one, from this place to that, I did not know where to go before I knew you. Everything seems different now, space is cool and life is never wet, my feet are dry and pushing – always pushing. The speeder is driving me away, I know that place – it seemed so far ago back then, before I knew of you my friend. Keep pushing me away, I knew my father then, the one I loved too much in death, in presence still alive in dreams, keeps pushing me away from him. And all I knew of Daddy-Daddy was a once endearing rhyme: keep pushing me, keep pushing me away, and please don’t stay – a once endearing rhyme – until the end of time. When when was not before, and I, I knew of them, kept pushing me and pushing me away.