literature

muted cries

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Literature Text

I recall the remnants of the dream, the forgotten parts once more
I sat at a table where a Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy like pair came between
A most ordinary looking fellow…

One plump, with a bloodbeard, the other with a beaked nose , coned skull
And greasy, long black hairs, grown down to his back…

I claim to know them
But they seem to declare otherwise while the larger one snickers
Reminding me that I know only of them indirectly
Through the middleman between them…

After we talk about absolutely, utterly nothing…

I step up to leave…
And I turn back to find that they are no longer present…

As I make for the corridor
I see an effeminate boy…tall…
No more than fifteen

A fist in side collide against the steel wall

Contorting an indifferent face
Into one of self-indulgent, melodramatic
Over the top tears…

I take a prolonged look…
Then move forwardly on…

His cries are muted…

I turn back once more…
He too no longer there…

Just an empty corridor…
And it looks as if I have travelled far further

When I have not even taken the steps to do so…
....
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