Ways of killing the innocent passerby
I was in the Walmart, dragging
my afternoon-tired leg
through the isle when passed by a middle aged
woman gabbing loudly to her husband.
We happened to see one another in
the next isle and the next, her voice,
still reciting the cacophonic alien poem.
Stole a glance at the woman;
her face; the surface of moon seen from
the long distance, with many craters.
Her leery eyes scraped me, her alien poem
turned to clear English, though harsh:
…tomb…she’s dying for me, this pork rind…
Woops! forgive my wince for the painful leg;
I smiled to her back; thanked the spacious store;
nook I could disappear into; a pang in the heart;
was she self-conscious of her face;
all it takes to redeem it, though,
soft voice and smile;
She must’ve left it on the moon
of her consciousness, like I did in my leg pain.
©Byung A. Fallgren
Hello everyone, finally I’ve returned home from the exhausting trip and
get back to the regular writing schedule. 😊 Visiting people can be
joyous if not dealing with downside. But I suppose, life cannot be always sweet.