top of page

in the courtyard came to me never more lovely. I wanted to go and take a look, but dared not. Seconds count by slowly at first then haunting rhythms enter in. Bespeckled teeth were pulled out of heads suffering from incompetence. The ones who were simply stupid had shaven heads. Mayors voted down a potential law, enforcing fat men to wear tags.

 

        Cock the public victim. Shove a rest home under his feet. Store up enough cans to last forever.

 

        They poured hot gelatin into every apartment filling it to the ceiling. Carrots got shoved in too. Cummerbund clad spinsters rather liked the idea.

 

        Bats enjoyed the scene, except for the difficulties in the jello. They could fly around and watch.

 

        The liquor burnt my skin as it went down. The holes in my mouth were bigger. Erosion over the years had no values, my values. Scum pads penetrated the surface debris. My legs started to look yellow. A draft came in the windows.

 

        The cold days bit at me. They didn’t care if the winds got to me. The cold didn’t care, it penetrated deep. Thwarting me, catching a hoop over my finger to give a speck of warmth. The hoops were bronze, the spikes sharpened from time and experience. I shivered in a strange manner. Pulled atop my head a hood that came from nowhere. There was no snow on the ground to peddle through. My feet got wet anyway. Sopping wet. All day I stood where it was cold. The cold was everywhere, common sharpeners by trade came to see me, but did not greet me.

 

        Down from a rally they walked in uniform stance to pause. The faces did not know. Around the bends they worked for the Golden Sheaf, not for me.

 

        I felt a bug in my hair. Pulled it out. Smashing it between my fingers. Carrying torches,

RIVER BED   22

copyright © 2017 d.jaffe  - all rights reserved

bottom of page