Archive for December, 2015

Bad Boy Cat

December 19, 2015

Bad Boy Cat

You stand by the door. When someone goes out, you go with them. It’s down the stairs and out the main door for you. I pick you up and carry you up back to the house in my arms. You struggle and want to run away. I hold on to you tight. But I am stronger than you. “You are not going out again. Do you hear me?” I sound like your cat mother using the tough love technique. You are strong and feisty; I have become even stronger than you. Once you came back home with your ear badly hurt. It healed. I was scared for you. You like to run to the small park on the other block and chase squirrels up the trees. Sometimes I think there is no discipline for you. I care about you, if that means anything.

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Last Time

December 18, 2015

Last Time

It was hot day in December. The day had been very hot, even for summer. He and I went for a long walk, one of those walks he loved so well. He did not pull; we could walk side by side quite easily. I explained to him that he would be at home, with someone taking care of him. I had to make a trip, but I’d be back as soon as possible. He looked at me with his brown eyes; he almost nodded. We headed towards the river. The sun shone on us. I found a seat and we rested for a bit. “It is time to go home,” I told him. The elevator took us to the third floor. “I love you. I wish I didn’t have to go.”
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Holidays!

December 15, 2015

Happy Holidays

“Happy Holidays to you! Happy holidays to you and your family. May you have all you have ever desired.” The man got on the subway and repeated these words over and over again. “I’m tired. I am tired of living. I don’t know what’s out there if I die. That scares me.” These last words he repeated as well. He was a man past middle age, but not what is considered old. When he sat down on the only empty seat in the car, he sighed. At his stop, he wished everyone Happy Holidays all over again.

 

 

20 Years

December 14, 2015

20 Years

The man’s voice was loud. He wore a shabby dark coat, dark pants and a light T shirt.
“20 years! I’ve been homeless 20 years! I could get in places where they wouldn’t let Obama in. I could go anywhere if I wanted to. I’m homeless. The cops should know me but they don’t. They see me but to them I’m not there. You know what it is? They just don’t want to see me.

The passengers waiting at the dirty J train stop looked at him, turned the other way. Some turned their backs. One or 2 gave a sigh of relief when the train finally arrived.

Short Garbage

December 5, 2015

Short Garbage

 

The little girl sat down. A little boy and a young boy sat next to her. She opened her backpack. “It’s only a sandwich.” Two pieces of bread went to the floor. She ate half a slice of yellow cheese and a slice of ham. The uneaten cheese and a carton pint of milk joined the stuff on the floor. She moved about in her seat. Her right hand hit the young boy’s thigh. “Stop it.” She hit him again. “I said stop it. You’re being rough.” She opened a small container. In a second or two the white contents were on the young boy’s trousers. He raised his voice. “Stop that.” The people around them stared. A few rolled their eyes. “That girl must be about 10. Just think what she will be like 10 years from now,” someone said in a low voice. The subway stopped at Tremont Avenue. The little boy, the young boy and the girl got off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not Heard

December 1, 2015

Not Heard

It is indifferent. It is not seen, not visible. The struggle to amount, to stand out and be counted among one of the fortunate ones has failed. The effort was great. No one could have said that there was no perseverance, no push towards something better. No one would have dared complain about lack of interest on her part or not enough drive. She had enough drive for 2 women. If one thing did not work out, she tried another, and another and yet another one. The feeling inside her made her anxious and a little afraid. It told her that it wasn’t right, it shouldn’t have happened that way. This life wasn’t her real life; the one in her soul was the genuine one. Her outside actions didn’t count for much. They just showed the world, if they cared to look, a woman, a woman down on her luck.