breathtest
09-20-2010, 04:42 PM
Something that needed to be written
The little black child was sitting in the seat in front of his two parents. He was wearing a black hat and his eyes were looking around curiously and his tiny nose looked like a dolls tiny nose and his eyes were like a tiny dolls eyes except there was life in the black child’s eyes and he was looking around enraptured at his surroundings and all of life that he was seeing only the beginning of. He would see more in the future and not necessarily wonderful life. But he was seeing all wonderful life then, and even though I couldn’t see the wonderfulness of the interior of a bus the little black child could see the wonderfulness of the interior of a bus.
The little black child’s black parents knew all that I knew about their child’s wonderment at life but not with the same vigour as I knew it, and they looked on the boy thinking he was cute and how they love him and revelling in what they had made together the two of them in a bed at night together under the covers and what they had made in that instant, or an instant like it, whereas I watched the child and wondered at his wonder, enraptured by his rapture, curious of his curiosity. This child of god or of the earth, of semen and egg, and here he was wondering at life. His eyes roamed constantly curious and he was once half an egg and half a spermatozoon.
And his father passed him a can of ginger beer and he took it in both of his tiny dolls hands that had life in them and he took three swallows of the drink that were like one adult swallow all together and he passed it back over the seat carefully to his father and his father took it.
And his father tapped the brim of his cap playfully so it fell over his eyes and he laughed and pulled the hat back up and his father laughed at him and his mother laughed at he and his father and they were a family a beautiful family who love each other laughing at each other and playing and happy and I watched them.
A white man came onto the bus and sat in a seat and looked out the window and paid no attention to the black family and I didn’t know how anybody could not be transfixed by this beautiful scene. The little black child safe and trusting in his parents to get him home safe on the bus the wonderful bus journey.
I was transfixed.
The little black child was sitting in the seat in front of his two parents. He was wearing a black hat and his eyes were looking around curiously and his tiny nose looked like a dolls tiny nose and his eyes were like a tiny dolls eyes except there was life in the black child’s eyes and he was looking around enraptured at his surroundings and all of life that he was seeing only the beginning of. He would see more in the future and not necessarily wonderful life. But he was seeing all wonderful life then, and even though I couldn’t see the wonderfulness of the interior of a bus the little black child could see the wonderfulness of the interior of a bus.
The little black child’s black parents knew all that I knew about their child’s wonderment at life but not with the same vigour as I knew it, and they looked on the boy thinking he was cute and how they love him and revelling in what they had made together the two of them in a bed at night together under the covers and what they had made in that instant, or an instant like it, whereas I watched the child and wondered at his wonder, enraptured by his rapture, curious of his curiosity. This child of god or of the earth, of semen and egg, and here he was wondering at life. His eyes roamed constantly curious and he was once half an egg and half a spermatozoon.
And his father passed him a can of ginger beer and he took it in both of his tiny dolls hands that had life in them and he took three swallows of the drink that were like one adult swallow all together and he passed it back over the seat carefully to his father and his father took it.
And his father tapped the brim of his cap playfully so it fell over his eyes and he laughed and pulled the hat back up and his father laughed at him and his mother laughed at he and his father and they were a family a beautiful family who love each other laughing at each other and playing and happy and I watched them.
A white man came onto the bus and sat in a seat and looked out the window and paid no attention to the black family and I didn’t know how anybody could not be transfixed by this beautiful scene. The little black child safe and trusting in his parents to get him home safe on the bus the wonderful bus journey.
I was transfixed.