A Collection Of Recollections

Chapter 4

In windowless rooms full of limited light, artificial evergreens, stock music

tunes and vinyl seat covers, anxiety breathes. Long, slow, and staggered.

Air puffs heavy with thoughts of all things precious – finger dust lists

as unique as the half-clothed bodies that lie on the elongated structure,

neither chair nor bed / neither supine nor prone, and wait.

Images of laughing children, some grown, some yet to be born, unplayed

games of hide and seek, chess, even solitaire. Visions of half-baked pies

and half-eaten meals. Notions of thumbs tacks on wallpaper maps

with destinations unknown. All float in a state of suspension.

Eyes track fingers then close. Lashes brush solitary tears and fists

tighten. Ears listen. Silently count irregular pauses. Listen for voices

in hallways on opposite sides of the faux-wood door. Knobs wait

in anticipation. Records play tracks of dusty roads and romance.

Records are read. Life pauses. Future tracks, too.

Unable to focus on the future. Unable not to.