Superficial magazines, poorly distributed
Evenly, around the moulded bench
Headlines about anything different,
And nothing that was about to happen.
I was encountering my nightmares
And they were hands I could shake,
The validation of a pair of eyes
The same colour of the shadow swallowing them.
Scraping the bottom of one barrel,
The print on a shirt I imagined to tear up,
Dressed by the lady I didn’t want to be friends with.
The lips were numb against the wind
– and the cold,
and the silence.
I yelled at you,
As you were the only face to see.
But mine were the legs that wandered at the fastest pace,
Finally surrendering at the perimeters of a seat.
And again I waited,
Tracing the rituals of my curse,
For the heartbeat to pass and for you to be back,
To return to the nightmares.
Looking at him, she was not quite sure he’d still think sometimes about the years they spent together.
I went to the beach today. It was mild. I thought about taking off my jacket, but then I didn’t. It would have been too cold otherwise. Off season, the sky was dull enough to make the beach look appropriately empty. Some occasional, timid sunshine to make my face squint. I set my headphones to some music that sounds inappropriate anywhere else. I walked slowly. I had to, I’ve just undergone an operation. Some odd footprints on the foreshore. Could it be my native inhabitant of the desert island? My Monday? That’s the day today. But they are feet with a stick. Possibly wood. Possibly an old man. Funny how quickly this image took shape in my mind. An abandoned boat laying enthroned on the sand. Must have been at least 40 years old. I wish I could go back in time today. Or forward. As to tell my future children to not trust anyone. To not follow any advice. Not even, not especially, mine.
She grabbed her bag, hustling with her eyes wide open, her breath getting shorter, ignoring the questions of the people sitting around her. She went out from the pub and took out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down the memories of the last two weeks that time was erasing from her mind.