The Unlived Dream Of Mother
Saturday, 31 October 2009
She worked at Austin’s (or maybe it was Sentry). A cute cashier. Had her first child at 17. Never tried any position but military. Step-father was a trucker
In the den of the small house, moonlight on a matted shag carpet. She is on her back ready for sex. She involuntarily passes gas
“Well, duh!” she says, her feelings hurt. She’s not a gymnast for crying out loud. Boys are stupid, twisting her all up like a pretzel.
The next day, a surprise for her at work, at Austin’s (or maybe it was Sentry). He brings her a small bouquet of flowers. She goes on break to be with him, her eyes fill with tears.
Time passes. The snow melts. Springtime arrives.
He wants to travel the world and won’t be taking her with him. He hitchhikes; gets as far as two hours to the south. She stays at Austin’s (or some comparable job), embittered; focused on her child.
Eyes hardened, piercing. No tears to be found.
Boys break hearts
