Archive for the ‘My Writing’ Category

Senile

May 20, 2017

Senile

You call me senile? What gives you the right to do that? And you call me stupid? When have I ever called you disabled or whatever else? The woman remembered the scene of their fight earlier that morning. She stood on the platform of the subway station. A panhandler near her was playing a song. It was On the Street where You Live from My Fair Lady. The lyrics, something about the lyrics, made her cry. Without really knowing why, the part that goes: I have often walked down this street before, broke her. She leaned her head against a pole. There were other people waiting for the M train. She had to hide her face from them, even if they didn’t care. The tears kept coming down. What have I done? I tried to be nice. She thought. I can’t live like this. This is too painful. She fumbled for a napkin, a tissue, anything to dry her face with. She finally used her hands up and down her cheeks.

 

 

The Land

May 12, 2017

This is it. Here it is. It is the land, the land of the lost. This is the place where the dreams that never came true go. This is where tears are shed, tears of frustration, tears of anger and pain. The pain is often deep; there is nothing to lessen its impact.  There are no words to soften the blow, the heavy blows of a life not lived the way it should have been. This is where there is at least some true expression of one’s soul.  There are no fake smiles here; no smiles that contradict what a person is feeling inside. At last one can be oneself here. There are no judges, no sour words coming out of a stranger’s mouth. The dreams are honored. They were beautiful and honest. They were a dear part of somebody’s life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Revisited

May 11, 2017

She stared at him. People were watching from the still open doors of the shuttle train. They were looking at him. He always commanded center stage. A sidebar, that’s what I am, she thought, just a simple ordinary sidebar, a cipher.. She swallowed hard before she spoke: What are you saying? What am I supposed to have done, according to you. He looked at her. You manipulated everything. You did it on purpose. You say you did it selflessly, but it is not true. It is not true at all. All you women are alike. You are greedy. She could not believe it. Was this the person she had risked so much to shelter? What had happened to change him? Something must have happened, but there was no way of finding out. In the meantime, she was the one who needed to take action, to do something positive for herself. Otherwise, after he left her life, there’d be another and another and another man to treat her like garbage. She was nowhere near garbage. He knew it. She had proved that over and over again. The undocumented immigrant from Hell had treated her in a bad way. The last thing she wanted was a repeat performance of that nightmare.

 

 

 

Down Spread

May 4, 2017

Down Spread

All spread out—someone was by the curb. He lay with his head on a black bag.  There were no shoes on his feet, though sneakers and a grey jacket were nearby. People walked by him; some looked and shook their hands while others didn’t see him. Someone stopped by the Starbucks cup in front of the person and put a dollar bill. Another person covered her face with the hoodie. She stood against the restaurant wall by the man and cried. It shouldn’t happen. These things shouldn’t be happening, she said in a low voice.

 

 

The Words

May 2, 2017

The Words!

Get out of here! Just get out of here! This is my house. This is where I live! You insulted me more than enough! How dare you criticize and say only negative words to me and about me? She wanted and did say all these things to the man in front of her. They had lived together for a short time. She thought he was nice, with a vulnerable side to him. Now he kept coming at her with attack after attack. Try as she would, she didn’t understand it. What had happened? What had she done? Sometimes she had given up part of her day and schedule for him. No, it hadn’t been worth it. He had turned on her—totally turned. There was no safety—no safety as far as her life was concerned. It was all dark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Place

April 25, 2017

No Place

He hadn’t shaved in days. The smell on his body was unmistakable. He hadn’t taken any showers lately.  His tan jacket was too big for him; he had lost a lot of weight. His trousers needed a better belt. He talked about the old days and how things had been good for him back then. It wasn’t so long ago—maybe 3 or 4 years. He couldn’t remember; he thought it had been in 2012 0r 2013. His voice broke a few times, recalling people no longer around. No one dear lived near him. They were somewhere else; they were in a place he couldn’t even dream of reaching.

 

 

 

Who?

April 18, 2017

Who

Who will tell you not to seek out danger? Who will say to you: Don’t do this because no one will bail you out? When you climb down the stairs to go out into the street who is going to talk to you in a firm voice, a voice that will stop you from using the half open door?  Are you listening to other commanding now or are you, as usual,  with people who expect others to rescue you? Are you with those who will hit you because you are on the couch taking a rest? How can I protect you now? I don’t know where you are anymore.

 

 

The Invalid

April 14, 2017

The Invalid

You still don’t understand. You were not there. You don’t know. I saw him when he was sick. I saw him at his worst; I thought it was about over for him. He lay in bed with his eyes closed. I would touch him to feel his pulse. Fine, I would say. It’s fine. I’m so happy. You’re still with us. The minute he opened his eyes he looked around the room. The sadness he must have felt was heartbreaking. I didn’t dare ask him, but I knew. He wanted his family. He wanted to see them. He didn’t care about anything or anybody else. I could imagine his wondering if they’d come back from that far away country. Nobody except them was allowed to hug or kiss him. I wanted to comfort him many times, but something held me back. I cared deeply for his welfare, yet I had to pretend to him that we were almost strangers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Man

April 11, 2017

The Man
The man is in pain. It’s no joke. The pain is all too real. He sits. His seat is a blanket in the middle of a street. Sometimes the seat is in somebody’s house. Things are iffy for him now. Things, events, are not to be trusted. He feels that they have done him enough damage. He doesn’t feel like getting more on top of every other type of damage. What more can he lose? Hasn’t he lost enough already? He sits and he sleeps. Food doesn’t exist for him anymore. Nothing exists except whatever eases, or pretends to ease, the pain.

Anything

April 11, 2017

Anything. I would do anything for you. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed. No risk was too much of a challenge. Nothing mattered except making sure that you were happy. I could not have loved you more if I had tried. The first time I saw you, I knew. It was that simple. My heart was full and I couldn’t wait to race over to you. I had to see you no matter what.