(Take 1)
Take me to the race tracks
No not those
I said the race tracks
Not those
The race tracks
The race, the one my color chasing down the yellow whores, my hero
I want to sit in old-fashioned bleachers and watch real horses run themselves into blue. Into ribbons. With him. Fray
my brother, fray
I want the black bandwagon sitting next to me most of the time, like an upsidedown fetish, surveying with intuition
making sure I cheer neat melodies about how we won, even when we didn't.
I feel safe here with them,
I'm gonna take on my hat,
I'm gonna bet all my money, safe enough to be sad, even after victory.
(Take 5)
To count everything in increments of running,
cause that's all I'm doing anymore, preparing for this disastrous happiness
In the glare of my own limitations: greed/generosity, cannibalizing one another
until there's no more bias to pry them separate.
So, shy like a child again and willing to say anything
I really mean
You–
from you
to you
that distance is crucial, unjustifiable. Brides run, and machines, kids,
cassettes,programs, bodies, sentences, his and mine, stuck running for the record,
this one's for the record
Outtakes (Inverse Window Seat)
In my version of the video, the controversy goes in the opposite direction, no trigger, all insider justice. I start off nude, in public, and I'm looking for something (I don't even know what) non-chalantly, walking past piles of ready-to-wear clothing and abandoned shoes. The city center adjusts into a desert, it strips too in solidarity, and then I notice my own condition, citadellicate nakedness in this desolate place, and I am the most self-conscious I've ever been. Afraid to have that much influence, exhilarated, afraid on purpose, until finally I sit down at a loom which is there as soon as I decide I need it, and invisible until then, or just busy. Anything preemptive is a form of excess here, is trespassing. And I weave myself a unit of fabric so beautiful in its yield, and I hold my body to its standards: there's no such thing as falling apart, we fall together, into the integrity of our own forms. With that, the city resumes its casual spooks and dominions, as soon as it recalls their names and uses. A new incentive for the intensest rendez-vous: vain, rude, and imperative, our savior: solitude. Nothing unnatural has ever happened besides the camera, which will self-destruct as soon as you are brave enough to put it down.
