On Hillside Avenue you were witness to the timeless enactments of the human story.
On Hillside Avenue in the silent rain.
The darkness there around you in the falling light.
~~~
A young girl walks in the rain, with just the hood of her coat on her head, her arms free. A double decker bus heaves up the hill in its low gears, its passengers staring into the infinite distance, imagining other worlds. They see me, perhaps, unshaven, unkempt, a wild man from the east upsetting their bourgeois stupor. A woman asks a mother walking with her child: "How old is she now?"An old West Indian man walks ten paces behind his grandson and tells him to wait, wait. On the radio: the pound buys one dollar twenty five. Two Romanian women-fairly attractive (or maybe I'm just old)- take deep drags of their cigarettes and remember a warm summer's day from only a few years ago.
The voices change, the accents too. Even the modes of transport might be different. But, yeah, it's there..know what I mean, Roxana? Not all good, but mixed up with it. It all goes on. That's the way it is. Am I here?
2 comments:
hello black sun,
how do you know they were romanian? :-)
i loved this sentence: They see me, perhaps, unshaven, unkempt, a wild man from the east upsetting their bourgeois stupor. :-) (though of course this is just stylistic prowess from you, as i doubt you look like a "wild man from the east" (whatever that is!)
a selfie to prove it? :-P
just teasing you...
Hello, floating bridge ( that makes us sound like Red Indians!)
How ? A wild guess.
Doubt moi? Such little faith, Thomas.
Selfie? What's that, boss? Anyway, there isn't much of my self left...
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