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I woke up to the cold patter of the rain. I was drenched from head to toe, shivering uncontrollably. I made my way from the hard park bench over to the nearby synagouge and pulled on the door. Locked. It was late at night and the only light came from the windows of the towering apartment complex. Lucky bastards with their soothing heaters and their comfortable beds. Here I am standing out in the cold rain with no shelter and they have all the comforts they need and more.
I walked over to the nearby flower shop, hoping the owner was foolish enough to keep the door unlocked, but alas. The window, however, was opened just the slightest bit, maybe I could squeeze myself through and escape the rain. However, no matter how much I tried, it was hopeless. As skinny as I was, the window would not give enough space.
I walked into the middle of the street, exposed to all of the rain and sat down, knowing at any second a car could emerge from the darkness and take away the cold and he hunger. I stared at the diner, dreaming of what lied just beyond the door. I knew that in the morning, the smells would fill my nostrils and I would once again struggle against the urges to burst in there and grab the food off an unfortunate man's plate.
Jealousy. Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy.
Just then, two blinding lights approached from Baker Street. Right before they came close enough to end it all, a loud screeching sound filled the neighborhood, and the lights veered a sharp right. All of this was followed by the shout "Damn low-life!" from late night bastard behind the wheel.
Those words were just enough to set me off. I grabbed the nearest chunk of gravel and hurled it at the car. The glass shattered and I ran off towards the park to escape the wrath of the driver, however, after a few strides, I noticed that there was an absence of an engine roaring after me, or the cursing of an enraged late night bastard.
I stopped and turned around and faced the scene. Only the low rumble from the stationary vehicle could be heard. I cautiously walked up to the car and looked through the shattered window. Shards of glass had embedded themselves inside the driver's face and neck. The chunk of gravel lay in the passenger seat. It had gained a splotch of crimson on one side, obtained from its skull crushing collision.
I stood there, shocked. Amazed. Guilty. Empowered.
This is what it is like to be free.
I woke up to the cold patter of the rain. I was drenched from head to toe, shivering uncontrollably. I made my way from the hard park bench over to the nearby synagouge and pulled on the door. Locked. It was late at night and the only light came from the windows of the towering apartment complex. Lucky bastards with their soothing heaters and their comfortable beds. Here I am standing out in the cold rain with no shelter and they have all the comforts they need and more.
I walked over to the nearby flower shop, hoping the owner was foolish enough to keep the door unlocked, but alas. The window, however, was opened just the slightest bit, maybe I could squeeze myself through and escape the rain. However, no matter how much I tried, it was hopeless. As skinny as I was, the window would not give enough space.
I walked into the middle of the street, exposed to all of the rain and sat down, knowing at any second a car could emerge from the darkness and take away the cold and he hunger. I stared at the diner, dreaming of what lied just beyond the door. I knew that in the morning, the smells would fill my nostrils and I would once again struggle against the urges to burst in there and grab the food off an unfortunate man's plate.
Jealousy. Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy.
Just then, two blinding lights approached from Baker Street. Right before they came close enough to end it all, a loud screeching sound filled the neighborhood, and the lights veered a sharp right. All of this was followed by the shout "Damn low-life!" from late night bastard behind the wheel.
Those words were just enough to set me off. I grabbed the nearest chunk of gravel and hurled it at the car. The glass shattered and I ran off towards the park to escape the wrath of the driver, however, after a few strides, I noticed that there was an absence of an engine roaring after me, or the cursing of an enraged late night bastard.
I stopped and turned around and faced the scene. Only the low rumble from the stationary vehicle could be heard. I cautiously walked up to the car and looked through the shattered window. Shards of glass had embedded themselves inside the driver's face and neck. The chunk of gravel lay in the passenger seat. It had gained a splotch of crimson on one side, obtained from its skull crushing collision.
I stood there, shocked. Amazed. Guilty. Empowered.
This is what it is like to be free.
2 comments:
A small sound was buzzing so light, yet so clear,
Becoming a tune as Snazy approached near,
The old busted bar with the dim, blinking sign,
Some song there was playing, one hard to define.
A voice with a pitch so pure, loud, and new,
Like a crack in the silence, a sudden breakthrough.
She glanced at the window and right there she saw,
The sweet southern cowboy, eyes closed, singing tall.
But before she could move, the man looked up to see,
Two bright gleaming eyes staring back from Snazy.
The butterflies jumped in her stomach that turned,
Right upside down for the man whom she yearned.
Her feet moved so fast without thought, she then ran,
Away from the bar, far away from the man.
"How embarrassing!" Snazy shouted out to the sky,
But her smile grew bigger without quite knowing why.
A glimpse of the sun, peaking out from behind,
The usual grey clouds that she grew to not mind,
Made her realize how fast her heart skipped a beat,
For that country boy singer she was dying to meet!
She sat in the diner, her thoughts scattered far,
After ordering her blueberry pancake she saw,
A man crouched and lonely on the bench right outside,
She noticed his weakness, his hunger that cried,
From beneath the dark shadows that set on his face,
Something had to be done in order to replace,
The emptiness lurking above and beneath,
The man filled with nothing but deep sighs of grief.
In half of a moment she walked out the door,
Giving food to the homeless man, needing it more.
"I overlook all the things that I have here,
Taking good life for granted, not facing my fear,
A great opportunity to see what could be,
I can't run away from a true love story."
So she turned right around and thought it all through,
Following her heart toward the love that she knew.
IV
Naublus felt empowered. His grey sun shone once again. His psyche was illuminated. His tread was sure and strong, and he stepped up into the United States of America.
"Oh, America the Beautiful!" Naublus exclaimed in a whisper. Ming Ming's: the immigrant builds a better life for himself. Washington Heights Apartments: Industry heralds an era of enlightened understanding. Oh, and the cars, the cars! America, speeding on its racetrack of glory.
"I love America," Naublus said, frowning. A gust carried the smell of fermented ginger mixed with gas. Naublus tipped over on his side, giving him a chigger's view of Washington Heights -- it looked majestic, grand, and surreal. Or was this all in Naublus' head. He scratched it find out, eventually ripping his scalp off.
"Naublus, Naublus, Naublus!" Lady Liberty, Naublus' precious ho. "What have you done to yourself? She sucked each jut of her crown like a popsicle, at which 55 crimson demon-fairies fluttered in. Each carried a hair, which they planted in Naublus boily, pimply scalp. As if baptized by Miracle-Gro, Naublus' crown of cell phone-black hair grew.
"There, there, Naublus my dear." Out of the grey, a huge, tornado-looking shape dropped from the sky, covering Lady Liberty. Up into the heavens she was sucked. Naublus breathed easier. Lady Liberty confirmed his love for America. Suddenly a flabbergasted tourist, he went sightseeing.
A grizzly bear of a man sold newspapers on the curb. Entrepreneurship, gotta love it. All-American.
Ahead of him, on the sidewalk, a Red Mustang jammed in a light post. The aftermath of a car crash. The diamonds on the driver especially caught Naublus attention. The high life, Mustangs and diamonds. God bless America.
Naublus could breathe again, the smog scrubbing his lungs of SMARTA air, which is really dust mixed with air.
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