Mad World

 Familiar faces.


On worn out streets.

A girl on the street laughs and looks down at the street as the last strains of her sounds echo in the scaffolding. Her hair is swept to the side by the wind, hiding her face from her lover, as though she was too shy to show everything. Her way of staying mysterious, drawing him in. I was on the other side so I caught the full effect. "That was so funny, you're so funny! Oh.. Let me slow down the pace a little. I want to enjoy this walk. Maybe if I stay quiet he'll put his arms around me." Sylvia. It wasn't her, of course. I'd remember that face anywhere, that abashed, demure smile. I can't make her wedding. It was today. But, but, this face... What a gift.

A bunch of army guys smoking. They lounged on both sides of the street, occasionally flicking ashes at each other and laughing. It almost feels wrong for me to... walk between them. One of them climbed up, did a few pull ups and jumped down to the middle with a flourish. He takes a bow to his cheering audience on all four sides and what do you know, the last was to me. Marcos. It wasn't him, of course. The first time we'd met we arm wrestled for a full 5 minutes. Him inching down on me and I, never yielding all the way to the bitter end. We became fast friends. Marcos didn't have his right pectoral muscle, so he drew a tattoo of a lion over it. Own your weakness. I gave him a high five. What a night, what a gift.

Congratulations Sylvia.

Published on
2/16/19 5:29 PM

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