you see them all the time...mostly in bunches at strategic locations...sometimes the odd solitary ones in the far reaches. fairly docile...non-threatening.. until you do the unspeakable. and you dont necessarily realise the folly of your ways at first. coz they maintain that laid-back demeanour...positively sopophoric. then you approach a crossroads...not the figurative, but the literal kind. they sidle up...on either side...sorta the precursor to the pincer move made popular by the...umm...pincers?
so they're on either side...and the caravan..like some smoke-belching millipede inches forward...its legs rippling forward in sequential movement. but there's something not quite right...the distance on either side seems to've diminished. you do some quick mental math involving some extrapolation and it doesn't compute...three bodies can't occupy the same space at the same time...unless...thats when it occurs to you...you look at their sides...scarred...fissured...beaten tin foil has better finish..and you think of the mirrored polished mirror-like feel...the sculpted jewel headlamps. you sense the complete disregard...the stony gaze tells you that here is something to be feared...something with nothing to lose...and coz you can't even bear the thought of seeing those scars on your beloved...
so you apply pressure with your right ankle...followed by your left...your left hand follows...you downshift..and let them squeeze by...frikkin' cabbies!
1 comment:
your beloved still needs a name...
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