spend my night, and my day
talking to you. answering. allegedly silent words
vocalised in the form of a car radio v/o
reverbing in vice city cortexia
huge signs, pointing yourside
stuck in a synaptical traffic jam
two vehicles ahead some emotional 3-axis lorry
gets unexpected flat tyre
tolls collectors inexplicably happy
enormous videowalls, alternating your form, one or another
taking turns, alien to familiar, advertising salvation
be it packed or simply serviced and then
come the trailers of imaginary prose,
my character, yours, a psychodrama then a
sports underdog story
temptress, broken favourite pieces, i4, gottlob, haircut, alone
creative, we must, broadband, vespa, ahead, bios
and various other words parade
a flickering red led display indicator,
some sort of unintelligible (ha) value system
is clearly in place
and then they are spotted. two imposing enormous cranes, and a peculiar
helicopter shouting encoded instructions over the loudspeakers
numerous handlers, forklift drivers and lay labourers
running about commited to the task
a whole partition of the road is at this very momment being relocated,
connecting a high bridge, with a previously inaccesible pasture
over and above the err...sea
no need to talk i guess, about no thing. we already speak.
no need to talk