"HER BODY IS COVERED WITH GREASE, SHE IS AS GLIB AS ICE WHEN IT BEGINS TO THAW."
Woman across the street in the sun. Thick white socks reach up to the knees. She is vigorously pulling up / pushing down. On her legs. Wailing / laughing. Does not know what choice. Around ankles? Around knees? Painful choices.
All I can think, I wish that, in some way, this could be woven into a children's program. There is a charm, like a fable.
Something so weak, throughout. I like it.
A grunt so close to my ear, like THEMROC. Remember THEMROC. It is what is missing until that moment, inside my ear. A little guttural but a resented, in-eradicable sophistication sits right underneath the grunt, a predicament translated to me in less than a second of sound, a male trying to get out of control, can't all the way. We can't all the way. We exist now. Like this.
OVERHEARD ON THE STREET:
"I'll stuff that animal into a safe."
"Tread litely or I will LEAVE you."
"My voice is so soft that it travels."