Train..Prague…Kundera..
Vacuum, silence, peace…
Is there around me any soul alike?
Dusk, hints of light.
Woodlawn…..adverts
Mount Vernoooooon, next.
Musicians get off…
Conductor…
New York is swinging me,
Surely they did not hear the
Bronxvileeeee….neeeeeext !
Rijeka and
by accident I hear
One hundred and twenty fifth street.
Some invisible wheels rattling beneath me
some anonymous musicians playing
above me,
in me
around me.
I seem to fly
through expanse between
railtracks and space.
Ticket, please!
One of a kin?
In front, The New York Times is peeping out,
another one on the left.
On my right – filthy windows
trying to hide
sad gloom, diseased
city
Deserted, transitory, local station…
Let’s work it out together…
Poets are falling
mixing with wheels
and railtracks
creating a new symphony,
let’s say..
Symphony of existence.
Watch your step!
Beware folks! You could
crush down my artists.
Carefully! Try to fly over
this interspace.
Take effort to be quiet,
silent, very insignificant.
Let’s move! It’s time.
lifting me up, putting me down and
driving me further (along).
Fleetwoooood…mutely
pronounced, slowly
I hear other passenger’s laughter.
Symphony of existence.

Dedicated to my brother Robert.
After seeing movie “The Unbearable Lightness of Being”
A novel written by Milan Kundera
NYC-Bronxville/ March 1988


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