Wednesday, June 03, 2015

worsh

I think about you all alone in your trailer and the dark curved hills sleeping like a beast all around you. But you don't know about them.  You are inside your trailer watching TV until 9:00 when you go to bed so that you can get up early in the morning and wait tables. You haven't washed your own dishes in three months or so.  You just use paper. And the silverware can just sit there in some sudsy water you ran a while ago.  Maybe you'll wash a fork if you need one. But you say it worsh, not wash. I forget why someone in my family says worsh. But you aren't thinking about that.  You think you are thinking about (which thoughts the television quiets,) your mother who died ten years ago, and your sister who died some years before that while you worked so hard waiting tables.  And you think you are thinking about your own baby niece, whom you only held once, buried with them.
But I don't think it's that, really, that you are thinking about, but something that died inside of you a long time ago.  You might be able to remember when you go outside, turning off the television, to look at the sky.

1 Comments:

Blogger apostmoderncupoftea said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

8:32 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home