born to run

It is possible for an album to be cinematic. Bruce Springsteen's immortal Born to Run is proof of it. Here are the final lines of the epic Jungleland:

"Outside the street's on fire
In a real death waltz
Between what's flesh and what's fantasy
And the poet's down here don't write nothin' at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of a knife
They reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland"

It is poetry. The poetry of New Jersey. It is poetry for all of us who grew up thinking we had to make excuses. Bruce articulated our dreams, our struggles - the issues we still struggle with - identity, freedom, self-respect. And his poetry spawned indelible images - Mary's dress, Bad Scooter, Eddie and Cherry, The Magic Rat. It could have been a movie, the images had that much life; the music reached that far into your soul.

I can picture them all in my head, so vividly that I would never want anyone else to create images that might interfere with the ones I've carried in my imagination for thirty years. This is a love affair that non-Jerseyites may never understand. Bruce redeemed us. And he redeemed us in 40 sublime minutes. Words fail me. I cannot thank him enough for making my reality operatic. It may have been that he was only freeing himself from the confines of Freehold, but in doing so, he freed us all.