Phases II

The last train left in the rain. The child wailed when the engine started. He sat on his mother’s lap, weeping. Something in his world had gone awry. It could be a missing nap or a strange routine. “You’re not responsible for my heart,” I told the man  bravely. The words lodged inside the engine that churned through the child’s tears. The sound hit the man but he was a partial being, heart resembled a closed fist, his smiles beguiling enough to make an angel fall if the angel were also made of longings. The child demanded juice, the purple colored one. His mother offered him milk instead. It’s more nutritious, she said. She was concerned with his growth. He was consumed by his desire for the purple juice. “You’re not responsible for my selective hearing,” I told the man, who stayed silent, after muttering, “I am a dick.” The mother slapped the child’s bottom when he smacked her hand offering milk. The white liquid splashed onto the hard seat next to me. Somewhere, a baby cow was asking for milk from his mother’s teats, whose udders were reserved for human children. “You’ve given me so much overall,” I told the man who was staring out the window, pastures passed by slowly, as if nothing in this world were in a hurry. Green overlapped with green under the bluest sky.  “I had a good time,” I reassured the silent man who needed no reassuring.

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5 Responses to Phases II

  1. Very interesting read. ❤ also what the fuck? I thought I was already following you. 😦

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