Loading ...The American myth is so potent. I found myself wistfully dreaming of the greyhound bus rides of my youth today, remember that pack of cigarettes and mrs wagner pies. What happened to those days, those dreams, those journeys, that youth, that lover.
Only to remember that i had not actually lived that life. I was nostalgic for someone elese’s dream! Powerful stuff nostalgia, especially when served by the pen of Paul Simon :
“let us be lovers well marry our fortunes together
Ive got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and mrs. wagner pies
And we walked off to look for america
kathy, I said as we boarded a greyhound in pittsburgh
michigan seems like a dream to me now
It took me four days to hitchhike from saginaw
Ive gone to look for america
Laughing on the bus
Playing games with the faces
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy
I said be careful his bowtie is really a camera
toss me a cigarette, I think theres one in my raincoat
we smoked the last one an hour ago
So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine
And the moon rose over an open field
kathy, Im lost, I said, though I knew she was sleeping
Im empty and aching and I dont know why
Counting the cars on the new jersey turnpike
Theyve all gone to look for america
All gone to look for america
All gone to look for americaa
But my nostalgia was real nevertheless. Nostalgia for when i was 17, when i travelled my kingdom by bus and train to get to bahai meetings, meetings which i still believed would change the world. Nostalgia for a time when i was less hard-bitten, when i was more pure, when i still believed. Before i went, looking for America.
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