Archive for the ‘My Writing’ Category

Follow the Eyes

November 16, 2017

Follow the Eyes

The cat is inside the cage. Seated against the bars, he is holding tight to his body. The man walks by him. The cat’s eyes are wide; they look at the man. The eyes follow the man as he goes towards the kitchen. The man goes to his seat in the middle of the room. The cat keeps on holding tight. He looks down at his food and water bowls. The man glances at the cat. He shakes his head hard. Unreal He’s still here, he mutters.

 

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Safe

November 4, 2017

Safe

I have not felt safe. I do not feel safe because I am not.  I don’t know what safety is anymore. The last time I felt safe was so many years ago; maybe it was when I was a child and didn’t know what was to come. A safe place to live; a place with no threats of eviction, with no threats of anything harmful to me—all this seems an unreachable and impossible dream. It is a far away event. I can’t even remember it anymore. I dread what will happen next.

 

 

The Curb

October 31, 2017

The Curb

She was near the curb; he was sitting next to her. He had a suitcase; she had a purse and a bag. It was dark—7 o’clock in the morning of a fall day. The milk crate hurt her back, but she had to sit somewhere. She had to do something to be there with him. People walked by. It was the early morning rush; they were the ones that arrived at work before the others had to. They walked fast and never glanced at the man and the woman. She shivered; he put he covered his head with a hoodie and looked at the sidewalk. How long will this morning last? It feels long, so long.

 

 

 

The Push

October 12, 2017

The Push

You just threw the house keys on the floor. Here, you said. I’m done. You slammed the door behind you. What pushes you? What pushes you to use words that can only hurt the one closest to you, the people who stand by you? What has made you bitter, bitter enough to lash out, to get the unseen sword from its not-so secret hiding place? What need is there in you to criticize, to find the bad and not the good in people? I try hard to understand, to get to the bottom of it all. I am baffled.

 

 

 

Cannot

October 12, 2017

Cannot

I cannot touch you. I cannot kiss you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. No matter how near you are, you are unreachable. There is a Stay Away invisible sign all around you. Your skin is forbidden to me. I dare not get close to it. It is too tempting. If I got close, I would get used to all of you. I would lose myself in passion.

 

 

Eviction Ville

October 7, 2017

Eviction Ville

The threat—the threat is always there. No matter what I did or how I do it, it rises up like a deadly snake. I cannot stay in this or that place—I cannot stay there, wherever there is, for long. It is only for a short while, for a few weeks, a few months if I’m lucky. I have to go—it is ordered, it is forced upon me. I don’t want to but I have to. There isn’t any other way. There is only Eviction Ville.

 

 

Nasty Neighbor

October 5, 2017

Nasty

There was a knock on the door, a heavy knock. The woman opened the door. She saw a bleached blonde standing before her. Oh, yes, the neighbor from the second floor, she thought. The blonde’s face was angry; her wrinkles were prominent. Do you know that your cat meows during the night? Is he feral? Feral? Of course, he isn’t feral. He’s a stray I am fostering. You’re not fostering him. He hasn’t even seen a vet. Yes, he has seen a vet, the woman behind the door said. Then why is he meowing. That’s what cats do. You bitch! I am going to call the ASPCA. I’m going to have you kicked out. Don’t call the ASPCA. On second thought call them. I’m helping the cat. The woman on the inside of the door shrugged her shoulders. Enough! I am tired of these people. If it’s not one, it’s another. Unsafe—now I feel more unsafe about housing than ever. It’s like I can never be home. I can never have my little sure thing space somewhere, anywhere.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Go

September 30, 2017

You go. You come. You fight. You argue and I don’t know why. You say you care. You say you don’t want to be emotionally close. Only the people you lost mean anything to you. Those people are gone but you don’t care. You love them. I don’t fit in anywhere. I care but you pull away. Will this be it, the end for what I feel? My heart hurts; it truly misses you. It is baffled and confused. Is caring for you a crime according to you?

The Empty Cup

September 27, 2017

The Empty Cup

She put the plastic cup next to her on the sidewalk. It was a busy time of the afternoon. People of all ages walked by—kids with their parents, tourists with cameras hanging from their necks, well-dressed women wearing high end jewelry, good-looking men carrying briefcases. Not a cent, not one penny. What am I doing here? Why am I here? I don’t want to. I want to be someplace where doing this won’t be necessary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our Spot

September 27, 2017

Our Spot

Get out! This is our spot! It’s not yours, it belongs to us. We were here before you. One of the 2 men shouted at the man sitting cross legged on the sidewalk in front of the pharmacy. They wore shabby T-shirts and trousers on the dirty side. The man looked at them. You don’t own the sidewalk; nobody does. I am here for a few days, a few days only; then I am gone. It’ll be all yours. He took out a small pencil from his pocket. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police, the woman next to the man said. She took out her cell phone and started to dial 911. The older of the 2 men made a gesture of disbelief and called someone with his phone. He said he has been here but I never saw him before. As soon as the 2 men left, the woman shook her head. What a horrible world this is! For a spot, a lousy spot, you could get hurt. That’s how it is, the man replied.