Читать книгу The Pleasures of the Damned - Charles Bukowski - Страница 48

where was Jane?

one of the first actors to play Tarzan was living at the

Motion Picture Home.

he’d been there for years waiting to die.

he spent much of his time

running in and out of the wards

into the cafeteria and out into the yard where he’d yell,

“ME TARZAN!”

he never spoke to anyone or said anything else, it was always just

“ME TARZAN!”

everybody liked him: the old actors, the retired directors,

the ancient script writers, the aged cameramen, the prop men, stunt men, the old

actresses, all of whom were also there

waiting to die; they enjoyed his verve,

his antics, he was harmless and he took them back to the time when they

were still in the business.

then the doctors in authority decided that Tarzan was possibly dangerous

and one day he was shipped off to a mental institution.

he vanished as suddenly as if he’d been eaten by a

lion.

and the other patients were outraged, they instituted legal proceedings

to have him returned at once but

it took some months.

when Tarzan returned he was changed.

he would not leave his room.

he just sat by the window as if he had

forgotten

his old role

and the other patients missed

his antics, his verve, and

they too felt somehow defeated and

diminished.

they complained about the change in Tarzan

doped and drugged in his room

and they knew he would soon die like that

and then he did

and then he was back in that other jungle

(to where we will all someday retire)

unleashing the joyful primal call they could no longer

hear.

there were some small notices in the

newspapers

and the paint continued to chip from the hospital

walls,

many plants died, there was an unfortunate

suicide,

a growing lack of trust and

hope, and

a pervasive sadness:

it wasn’t so much Tarzan’s death the others mourned,

it was the cold, willful attitude of the

young and powerful doctors

despite the wishes of the

helpless old.

and finally they knew the truth

while sitting in their rooms

that it wasn’t only the attitude of the doctors

they had to fear,

and that as silly as all those Tarzan films had been,

and as much as they would miss their own lost

Tarzan,

that all that was much kinder than the final vigil

they would now have to sit and patiently endure

alone.