In
my pants is glued a name That is not mine of baptism or of
archives A name... strange My jacket brings note of drink That
I put never in the mouth, in that life, In my shirt, the cigarette
mark That I don't smoke, until today didn't smoke. My stockings
speak about products That I never tried But they are
communicated to my feet. My tennis is coloured proclaims Of
some thing no proven By this fitting room of long age. My
handkerchief, my clock, my key chain, My tie and belt and brush
and comb, My glass, my cup, My bath towel and soap, Mine
this, mine that. From the head to the beak of the shoes, Are
messages, Speaking letters , Visual screams, Orders to use,
abuse, repeat. Custom, habit, urgency, Indispensability, And
they do of me itinerant man-announcement, Slave of the announced
matter. I am, I am in the fashion. It is hard to walk in the
fashion, although the fashion Is to deny my identity, To change
it for thousand, monopolizing All the registered marks, All of
the logos of the market. With that innocence resigns of being Me
that before was and knew me So diverse from others, so myself, A
thinker being full of feelings and lonely With other several
beings and conscious Of their human, invincible condition. Now
I am announcement Sometimes vulgar sometimes bizarre. In
national language or in any language (Any, mainly.) And in this
I rejoice, I find glory Of my annulment. I am not - see it !
- contracted announcement. I am that tenderly pays for To
announce, to sell At bars parties beaches pergolas swimming
pools, And well on view I exhibit this Global label in the body
that gives up Of being garment and sandal of an essence So
vivid, independent, That fashion or I bribe some commits
her. Where will have thrown away My taste and capacity of
choosing away, My such personal idiosyncrasies, so personal
that in the face it mirrored And each gesture, each glance, Each
crease of the clothes is recorded in an universal way, I leave
the print shop, not from house, Of the shop window they remove me,
they put me back, Pulsating object but object That offers as
sign of other Static objects, tariffed. For showing me like
this, so proud Of being no myself, but industrial article, I
ask that my name rectifies. No longer it suits me man's title. My
new name is Thing. I am the Thing, thinglike.
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