In a parked car, I see you crossing the street,
Your golden hair dazzling in the sun.
Your eyes brimming with deep blue water,
My eyes, an empty cup desperate to be filled…
And you notice me… your path in life has met with mine;
Our stars now entwined, even if only for a stark moment.
When two people meet, make contact in some way,
It is never to be understood in a casual manner.
Rather, it is two cold heated flames colliding.
And there is something new. Something created.
In a parked car, I see you crossing the street,
Your golden hair dazzling… A car hits you!
You were too busy looking at me…
The wings of the angels drop downward in despair,
With all becoming shades of sunless stuttering grey.
I used to think that life was a journey. Terrible things
Only happen to other people. But my journey was special –
Sure, I would sometimes misplace my car keys, or leave
The cold tap running. But really bad things only occur
On other people’s journeys. I used to think that
Things happen for a reason – that I am blind because
I could not hope to comprehend God’s plan.
Now I know that love is blindness. I step across the ravine
Wearing a white blindfold. I cannot escape my blindness.
Now life is not a journey anymore, it is a game of cruel canasta.
Now I know that love is blindness.
I’m a Dominican Friar watching a Cathar burn to death on
A stake. Her golden hair dazzled in the sun. Her eyes
Brimming with deep blue water; my eyes an empty cup
Desperate to be filled. I felt so much sadness, but she was a
Soulless heretic. Watching her and the others burn at Montsegur
Suddenly made my God unknowable. And I realised that Love is
Blindness. All I could do was hope I did the right thing.
I’m a movie star gazing into the eyes of a cancer-ridden starlet,
Her golden hair dazzled in the sun. Her eyes
Brimming with deep blue water; my eyes an empty cup
Desperate to be filled. I crack some bad jokes and she kindly laughs –
What can I really say? She is dying of cancer. All I know is that
She will not remember my jokes. I think they made me feel better
About myself, rather than having any effect on her. I just don’t know.
Love is blindness. The five nuns who drowned when the Deutschland sank,
Huddled together, murmuring soft, almost muted tears, as the water crept
nearer and nearer. They could say and think anything; nothing would
Alter the approaching end. Such things only happen to other people,
They thought. Love is blindness.
I am in a maze, which I wish to understand. All I can do is run and scream,
Clasp my hands in prayer and gaze at the heavens. I’m now back in the car
Looking at a space which had contained a woman crossing the street.
The ambulance men dash about and everything becomes blurry. I decide
To go home, drink a beer, and play a video game, maybe House of the Dead.
Killing the zombies would be a re-enactment of all of my dreams dying.
I will never be able to remove the blindfold, but I need to keep on walking,
Winding my way around the maze, desperately trying to go back to the start.
For love is blindness. Sometimes I don’t want to see.