Lady Rocket in Israel

The wilderness the vastness the yellowness the greenness
Only a tint of red my sunglasses hold tightly
To the views that I blink at but never know when or how
The vast-land and the vast-sea so gentle and caring but so unreal
This is no Paris Texas for me
No Ry Cooder on headset, but an unknown mezzo-soprano voice
Sleepy lazy tunes awaken me that I finally forgo blinking
Unclear and slow is this melody and so Chloe mistakes as French
I retap the phone screen and the title shows:
Toi et Moi
She made a solid guess but not a right one
Bronze Venus born in St. Louis with deux amours
Or the Americana Tejano guitarist would make more sense but
Neither occupies me at the moment other than that young Korean voice
Of a girl sitting in a coffee house whose profile face I had a glimpse of
On a paper cover as I pass by the record section in a bookstore
In Seoul
The second time I traveled there and I bought some leather passport cases
For family and for friends who assume no more than kimchi and barbecue
Only she hears my silent voices as I hear hers, along those rides
Her name is Lady Rocket

City bus, subway, railway, train, intercity bus, taxi, bicycle
Incheon, Gapyeoung, to Namchuncheon and then Hongcheon, Yangyang to Gangneung There was a lot of sitting, but I imagine elsewhere like I wish
I were in a big van, a giant truck, or an old-fashioned triple-story tour bus
The bigger the better the higher the merrier the slower the grandeur
I see many landscapes but seeming different from home
More trees here and also much milder here than the steep rock mountains 455 kilometers Away from the downstairs of my bedroom where I was told by a friend
Whose high school girlfriend fell in love with an Israeli boy three months ago
And will move to Tel Aviv this summer
I look at the unchanging greenness and blueness through
The window, my sunglasses and that transparent cornea, unconscious of blinking
My headset running out of the battery now, but I let it go anyway
I never met that girl, that friend of my friend, that faceless figure who persuades me
To close my eyes, and listen, that voice I listen, quietly
Is that you, Lady Rocket?


Artwork by Lassnig “Science Fiction Self Portrait”


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