This is a little ditty I wrote tonight. Just a little something for you all to read. Enjoy.
Could I Cry Fish?
You had a life. Reality is as crisp as your mothers lips…
The bus is cold and the voices are very loud. The glare and flash of passing cars strips your mind blank. The dark and sweat of night have taken toll. He leans over to you and looks you in the eyes and smiles. You quickly look away. “I hate the bus.” It’s all you can think of to say.
The high pitched chuckle of a young girl soon joined by a sexually charged laugh spin around your head as you try to close your eyes. It has been a hard day. Now its time to go home and it seems to be taking a lifetime. So surreal it all is, blurring into a thousand shimmering lights and all wrapped around that itchy and greasy head of yours.
“We iz goin’ ‘ta stah’p at de gaz stashin’?” A young boy seems to be rather happy at the thought of a stop. Your head slides up against the cold wet glass of the window and your cheek begins to tingle. The harsh smell of dirty flesh and winter nights burns in your nose. Up ahead is the station, sitting cooly in the night as if it was a large television, with its flashing lights and neon graphics. But the television is always on mute.
The bus slides over into the desolate lot and the people begin to hurry to the door, wrapped in layers of thick winter clothing. You remain seated in the back of the bus. Like a lone soldier, you stare down the isle, through all the empty space which was previously occupied. Like a spiral, your vision twisted out of the bus through the front window and out into the night.
You lost everything today. You had a chance and you lost it. Your life had slipped out the back door and ran down the alley. It stumbled away into the streets with clunky brown shoes on, with no money in its pockets. It stumbled away into the night.
"Hey mister! I seen a fish this mornin' mister! My old man brought it in from 'teh crik! It dun made me happy mor'en any thin'!"
You look down at this sharply spoken fellow. He stood there like a statue. The boys bright red cheeks glowed like hot coals and his little eyes sunk deep into his puffy head. You took off your hat and you thought about what you could possibly do now. Its hard to fall and spill everything. Its hard to trip and scatter all of your marbles. What could help you now?
“Mister? You look like you could use some fish yer’self… .”