Screw the lovers. In a world striving for a new tomorrow, those in "love" cling to old-fashioned, out-dated notions of companionship of a form that more closely resembles slavery, willing to place the yoke around their necks with their own hands if it allows to them to desperately stave off the knowledge that they too must die alone. In honor of exposing this hypocrisy, here's an ee cummings poem:
she being Brand
-new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff i was
careful of her and(having
thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.
K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her
up,slipped the
clutch(and then somehow got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell)next
minute i was back in neutral tried and
again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my
lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity
avenue i touched the accelerator and give
her the juice,good
(it
was the first ride and believe i we was
happy to see how nice she acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens i slammed on
the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
brakes Bothatonce and
brought allofher tremB
-ling
to a:dead.
stand-
;Still)
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stay in bed all day and cry myself to sleep.
Later Days.
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