Time and Again

Time and again you flashed a blue smile. You were eaten by hunger. The coffee store around the corner filled you with apologies. You sat there with your hands cupping milk, a checkered scarf twisted around your summer neck.

It was an island of indecency. Department Head of Justice, a short elderly with receding ears, stopped by to order chocolate flavored oranges. He had wood-rimmed glasses and cherry lips that talked only of chipmunks and housing prices. He dissuaded you from paying.

The grocery girl next door passed by only once in two weeks. She wore dangling earrings and purple eyelashes. Her teeth smelled of enamel. Flaxen hair shaded pink fluttered to the wind, printing sunlight into your eyes. They reflected a bouquet into little Jamie’s translucent crystalloid, as she peered nervously through the semi-opaque backseat car window, her hands pressed onto the sides of a yellow schoolbag.

Then from across the street came the businessmen in polished shoes and moustache. Dark hair parted in the middle and combed back to shield their baldness, they came in swarms, never venturing an investigative look at you behind the coffee store window. Cologne forestalled the stench of leather briefcases. When car beeps ceased and the street turned clean, a late engineer trotted by with blueprints flying.

landscape-at-krumau-1916Two university students strode hand in hand, eyes adrift and unstopping by the traffic lights. The boy tossed a slack of brown hair back, dazzling you with closely-set teeth. Jamie capered with light feet and quivering eyelashes, yellow handbag dangling at her shoulder. The grocery lady hugged her with nails painted blue, pink hair faded into a loosely fastened knot.

Night descended and neon lights flashed green. The short-sighted elderly with cane in hand glanced at the coffee store without heeding you. Footsteps thundered, the pop star in sunglasses checked the window for reflection. Shiny coverall and explosive hair cleared the dull of your eyeballs, the guards clustered in black and ties. Midnight, traffic lights illuminated darkly veiled troopers carrying coffins for burial. Shadows crept to shield your eyes against the iron rimmed glasses shimmering blackness.

An old man in faded leather shoes and whiskers crouched at the steps. The lady with yellow bowler hat looked into the clouds, unmoving by broken traffic lights. From the grocery store came a capering boy, swift legs wrapped up in striped bib pants. He carried a basket of air, holding sunlight piercing into your eyes. You flashed a toothless grin, time and again.

 

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