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2009-11-02 22:39:20 |
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2010-10-02 14:29:44 |
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"Fragment
#1"
Speaking is
speaking
when you
(The next word is
unintelligible,
writt
en on a drunken scrap of
paper.)
speak
any
more.
Tokyo
Perhaps a day in early
June
"Lazarus on
the Bullet
Train"
For
Tagawa
Tadasu
The
Bullet Train is the
famous Japanese express
train that travels 120
miles an hour. Lazarus is
an old
stand-by.
You
listened to the ranting
and raving
drunken
American
writer on the Bullet
Train from Nagoya
as
I blamed you for
everything that ever
went
wrong in this
world, including the
grotesque
event that
occurred that night in
Gifu while
you
slept.
Of
course, you had done
nothing but be my
good
friend. At one
point I told you to
consider me
dead,
that I was dead for you
from that moment
on.
I took your hand
and touched my hand with
it.
I told you that
my flesh was now cold to
you:
dead.
Y
ou silently nodded your
head, eyes
filled
with sadness.
I even forbid you to ever
read
one of my books
again because I knew how
much
you loved them
and again you nodded your
head
and you didn't
say anything. The sadness
in your
eyes did all
the speaking.
The
Bullet Train continued
travelling at
120
miles an hour
back to Tokyo as I ranted
and raved
at
you.
You didn't
say a word.
Your
sadness filled the Bullet
Train
with two
hundred extra
passengers.
They were
all reading
newspapers
that had
no words printed on
them,
only the dried
tears of the
dead.
By the
time the train reached
Tokyo Station,
my
anger had turned slowly
and was headed in
all
directions toward
a deserved
oblivion.
I took your
hand and touched my hand
again.
"I'm
alive for you," I
said. "The warmth
has
returned to my
flesh."
You
nodded silently
again,
never having
said a word.
The two
hundred extra
passengers
remained
on the train,
though
it was the end of the
line.
They will stay
there forever
riding
back and forth
until they are
dust.
We stepped out
into the early Tokyo
morning
friends
again.
Oh, thank
you, Tagawa Tadasu,
O
beautiful human being for
sharing
and
understanding my
death
and return from
the dead
on the
Bullet Train between
Nagoya
and Tokyo the
morning of June 8,
1976.
Later in
the evening I called
you
on the telephone.
Your first
words
were: "Are you
fine?"
"Yes
, I am
fine."
Toky
o
June 9, 1976 |
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