Admittedly, I Have Been Busy.
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Written by Nunyo Bidness
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Sunday, 27 April 2008 |
I know our shoes were stitched from songs about highways. We walked on our tired soles for as long as the sidewalks took us, turned around, and did it again. Your eyes were mirrors.
The ground is ice on my feet but I am worrying about bigger things. I sit in the chair made out of millions of splinters and a few rusty nails. I lean back and the arms tilt up, revealing nails like shark teeth. The phone is ringing inside but the door slammed so hard that I'd never hear it again anyway.
The sun is coming down. Every inch that my part of the world spins away from the sun is another tense nerve relaxing in the tips of my fingertips and the sting in my tongue. It's still bright. I learned years ago in school that fifty-something years ago, we, a collective of man, dropped a bomb on another collective of man that glowed brighter than the sun. One man pressed a button that killed tens of thousands. I pressed a button that might have killed one.
Moments later, I am collapsing like a house of playing cards. Above me is ceiling but the only thing I can see is myself. Anna is calling. The phone rings like a congregation reciting a hymn to a preacher, wearing loud smiles like wedding rings and knowing that Sunday is a holiday. I could pick it up. I could walk until the sun was too heavy on my shoulders and I could tell her that I'm not enough, but I won't do any. I'll just listen to the silence, face up, fingers limp and heart tied down to concrete blocks.
Copyright 2008 Nunyo Bidness
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