something about an old guy waiting for the bus with his closed eyes. something about the young girl with a scorpion tattood on her half-naked breast. something about the gap between the two of them. something about the bench. something about people in the early hours of my mornings. something about waiting. something is missing, something is not there.
she says this guy wrote home is where your heart is. that's cheating. that's just not fair. it takes homelessness to a whole new level. now you need to know where your heart is before you could call anywhere home. now you should... heart?
heart. that's what's missing. it's gotta be heart. there's got to be a heart somewhere. beneath the young girl's breast. behind the old man's closed eyes. within the gap between them. a heart waiting for the bus to arrive.
something about the moment the bus arrives. same time, same place, same old man, same girl, no hearts. something about this empty bench I pass by everyday on my way to work. something about the way it catches my eyes when they're looking for signs that make them feel like home. something about a dream, when there's nothing to be seen. something about feelings, or lack thereof. something about home, nowhere to be found. something is missing. something about me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
"she says this guy wrote home is where your heart is. that's cheating. that's just not fair. it takes homelessness to a whole new level."
genius Shahin! this does take homelessness to a whole new level. I'd never thought about it before.
Ohh, for some reason I thought Leili, you had written it and I was just about to order a bunch of flowers and write an extensive note of praise to you, until I realized it was Shahin.
Although it still is quite a splendid passage, I'm surprized no more, I'm used to his genius!
Post a Comment