Waldo
04-01-2012, 02:15 AM
Noon slumbers silently, the struts of skyscrapers: the city, and sidewalks under the blue day—lazily lights lifting the long clouds, the white wisps that waft overhead under the oval glance of the sun, and luminous lies the lanes where streetcars pass by in flash, fleeting away farther from their last second: Cause…
Time is money /the voice of her father, far off, found sound in the thought—but it turned, and her tone tugged her thoughts out, so that the mute words-never-worded met her mind as hers: hers solely, separate from Salvatore, her father.
…And that’s why. Why the cars flash by—places to go people to see /sounded like him, he said that once as he left, and closed the door; and was that a gun she saw for a moment in the light? maybe—hurrying on, like sharks. If you stop you die—had her mother stopped?; is that why she was dead every day since six years back, when her head came in box: too young, a small girl with tears down her cheek, but old, old enough to know and yet not know; she was young enough to cry into her father’s shoulders, to be frightened about the whole thing she couldn’t grasp, but old enough to know her mother died a few days back (six years, and more, ago now as she walked towards Bennet Tower) and wouldn’t live any day after that: wouldn’t hug her any day after, wouldn’t comfort an old-young girl buried in her father’s shoulder, sharp sputtering sobs, it was a warm damp against his jacket tear-stained; and then he left, maybe with a gun, she wasn’t sure, but he had places to go and people to see: so the door closed, and she cried without him—so never stop.
Her cheeks are dry now, never wet unless in the rain when it pours torrents, and her mother died six years back—six years and more /it sounded farther back said and thought that way, more distant: like a bad dream that makes you wet the bed at 3 but fades from your life ever after—so she was strong: her legs strode proud each step, and the cars flashed by under the noon-face sun, never stopping.
She would move, like sharks: time is money; places to go people to see—that’s why she wouldn’t falter: falter, stop, and die. She wouldn’t.
The traffic light was green, turned red, and the sun-flung flash of passing cars stopped.
Time is money /the voice of her father, far off, found sound in the thought—but it turned, and her tone tugged her thoughts out, so that the mute words-never-worded met her mind as hers: hers solely, separate from Salvatore, her father.
…And that’s why. Why the cars flash by—places to go people to see /sounded like him, he said that once as he left, and closed the door; and was that a gun she saw for a moment in the light? maybe—hurrying on, like sharks. If you stop you die—had her mother stopped?; is that why she was dead every day since six years back, when her head came in box: too young, a small girl with tears down her cheek, but old, old enough to know and yet not know; she was young enough to cry into her father’s shoulders, to be frightened about the whole thing she couldn’t grasp, but old enough to know her mother died a few days back (six years, and more, ago now as she walked towards Bennet Tower) and wouldn’t live any day after that: wouldn’t hug her any day after, wouldn’t comfort an old-young girl buried in her father’s shoulder, sharp sputtering sobs, it was a warm damp against his jacket tear-stained; and then he left, maybe with a gun, she wasn’t sure, but he had places to go and people to see: so the door closed, and she cried without him—so never stop.
Her cheeks are dry now, never wet unless in the rain when it pours torrents, and her mother died six years back—six years and more /it sounded farther back said and thought that way, more distant: like a bad dream that makes you wet the bed at 3 but fades from your life ever after—so she was strong: her legs strode proud each step, and the cars flashed by under the noon-face sun, never stopping.
She would move, like sharks: time is money; places to go people to see—that’s why she wouldn’t falter: falter, stop, and die. She wouldn’t.
The traffic light was green, turned red, and the sun-flung flash of passing cars stopped.