Mrs Robinson On an Open Road
The road ahead of you
and Mrs Robinson on the radio.
At first it sounds like a pleasant surprise
like an old friend from your youth
buried somewhere in the fog
so deep that you’ve forgotten the ties that bind you.
Already after the first verse
the song turns into a mere reminder of mortality
of those who built the world
as you know it.
They have grown old and are dissapearing.
The overwhelming melancholy overtakes
the initial rapture.
The car windows open into the worlds
whose existence you can only anticipate.
The consequences of our actions
catch up with us continents later.
Bridgeless river disrupts the journey
right at the moment when you can sense its end.
It stops everything but anticipation
and the question why life in the proximity of water
can guarantee everything but consistency.
Here even stone must be as soft
as wood.
Like a boiled chesnut of childhood.
Eventually, the anxiety ceases.
And all that is unpredictable suddenly becomes possible.
Spending a night in an unexpected darkness
feeling fearless
entering that nameless village
and ordering a strong midnight coffee
are not such a bad epilogue to a day like this.