Mar 1, 2012
He stands beside the body of the man he couldn’t help.
For a moment they’re alone.
It’s such a long day
what a long day it’s turning into.
She brings him some medicine.
When she starts to beg, he crumbles. Like dry soil. Even as he turns cold
and hard, he’s crumbling. Nothing holds. Nothing will transmit.
Now he’ll be cruel. That’s the human touch.
Is he going to take that medicine with him when he leaves? At the doorway, he hesitates, asks: will she come with him. And she does! The medicine is left behind.
What will their days be like? Next week. Will they start a little business?
Move somewhere else, get jobs, have savings?
The woman who asked to sit alone sits with us, instead. I think the other man wants her, the one she doesn’t love. Does she only have two choices?
She prays. If only God would be a sport.
Sometimes she thinks that there’s a fire.
One explanation is she’s trying to escape the fire.
March 01, 2012