'...'
she rattles doors, she rattles pans as night is cast across the floor through the windows filling the spaces consuming the light. alone to the kitchen. alone to the fridge it's bulb cutting through laying an equal lateral triangle of yellow. pulling the cover exposing feet, eyes and floor. she moves in. face first lifting foil, rattling ketchup, knocking milk bottles searching like a child for her mother's left over.
she looks, she walks, he follows all three hunting down a piece to fill this new gaping need. what to do? what to do? what to do? they could think.
she is the lead dog. she is the front man. she is far enough to feel independent yet still hear his foot fall on gravel track.
'where we going?' she thinks.
'all this, all this is got to go?' she thinks.
'if your good, a good man can you make mistakes?' she thinks.
'we are in love, we are in marriage, we are in parents. can we survive?' she thinks.
'why do i got to leave?' she thinks.
he is not trying to catch her. as the night falls he keeps his distance. he does not pick up the pace. he does not try to calm her down. he does not try to think of the where the finish line lay.
'why?' he thinks.
'i got all this. i got all this...' he thinks but pushes it away.
they are closer. there minds move in union from years of marriage. if it was allowed he could think of hope. if it was allowed he could think of her and how she will stop and hold him. if it were acceptable he would hold her he would kiss her and he would cut his vein to bleed out the poison of this act. for now he will follow hold his breath and wait for whats to come.
'a pbj it is.' she says to the air. she is still a child. the weight is not on her. there is a lump to be feed in her stomach. there is a lump to be rubbed and sung to. she has been orphaned by her actions. good girls are not allowed mistakes.
her father was a salesman. is a pusher of cars. her mother makes knick knacks to be placed on the kitchen tables. they like the news. they like gin rummy. they like to whisper in the dark about the problems or gossip of others. they were not happy to hear the whispers return about them.
she has a young brother who will cry for a while. they were good friends. he would bring homework in, mostly math, that they would sit and chew pens while completing and then they would talk about a future to come. he is young, he is innocent, he is to fresh to know that he shouldn't share everything with everyone. so he told his father and his mother as if they had known. so he had watched as they roared and tore at their breasts. so he watched as they shuffled through garbage and drawers. so he watched as they packed her clothes into a duffel bag. so he watched as they placed a small plastic stick in the pocket lay open from lack of a zipper. so he watched as they put it on the front porch with a small white envelope containing twelve hundred dollars and a folded yellow note. so he followed as they packed him and drove him away.
'pbj it is,' she says. she moves through the dark to the couch. she will curl her legs up and place the plate on her knee. she will hold the sandwich with one hand, with the other she will manipulate the control until it lands on some reality show about people trying to room together, trying to stay drunk all the time and trying not to murder each other or step on the other's fabulousness. the glow of the television will highlight her smile.
she has stopped. there is a cross roads. she has stopped her head tilted towards the moon, her chest heaves , she screams and falls to her knees. she pounds the dirt. he is beside her. he is stroking her hair, she does not stop him. she does not curse him. their forms are alighted by moonbeams. far away with a telescope we can see her mouth moving. we can see her mouth move and form the words, '____ ______ together.'
he is nodding shaking the tears from his cheek.a car unwittingly passes by, save for the little boy whose face is pressed against the window. inside the car the boy knocks. inside the car the sound catches the drivers attention. the driver looks into the rear view. in the rear view he sees a man that looks familiar. suddenly the couple on the road is bathed in the red light of brakes. suddenly a driver pounds the steering wheel. the moon light that covers them is more yellow when compared the to the white of this new man's rage.
an we all think of whats to come.
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