(written with seasicklumberjack )
a grown man is sitting by himself at a table in a sandwich shop.
he is swinging his legs and staring at his grilled cheese
bluebirds keep flying into the window that he is sitting next to
and landing lifeless on the pavement.
the man notices and admires for a brief moment
then continues reading the stephen king novel that he had brought along.
he rereads a paragraph because he felt moved by it and dabs at the corners
of his mouth with a page that he has already read and ripped out as his milk coffee leaks out.
there is a large woman in the corner talking with food still in her throat
her voice is like a slow sounding siren on an island that isnt featured in any atlas.
a sailor got lost at sea and thought that she was the ideal woman but he was not at sea.
he was a senile old man in a sandwich shop.
pangs of post traumatic stress disorder sent him swinging through the scenes of his life
at rapid fire
bang bang kiss collapse fuck fall asleep smoke cigarette explode trapped birth
the man liked the way he felt underwater so he slept in his bathtub every night.
he said it reminded him of when he was a fetus.
he didnt know anything.
he liked coloring books and novels by dostoevsky.
he liked ripping out the pages of these books and keeping them in a cigar box under his bed.
he never actually colored in or read any of the pages.
he felt that doing so denatured the soul of these pictures and words.
he wanted to feel trapped. he needed it.
he shouted obscenities from the back of public transportation busses.
when he was younger he wanted to be in a rock n roll band but he had crooked fingers
he was envious of the college kids with tight jeans on the bus.
Solemn, and the images are intriguing and refreshing!