Autumn Play

Incubator (US)-Cigarettes
oOoOO- Hearts
Dam Mantle- Rebong
Chromatics- Running up that hill
Caribou- Sun

What is left but dirt

They had staggered out of the warehouse. There were three of them. They walked without direction, but instead, with general purpose- for they knew they needed to find the main road. The skies had melted from black to grey since they had last set foot outside. Things seemed tranquil. A breeze blew. The clouds lifted and all around bathed in soft light under the blue overhead. They were relaxed. They reached the road. "Kids selling roses...thats cute," thought the first. One of the boys turned to the other, "just keep your hands in your pockets." Things were still pleasant. The world was passing slowly like an underwater dream. The kids came closer and suddenly surrounded them. They were no more than thirteen years in age, the youngest, perhaps,having seven. It was he who approached one of the three boys on the street. "Nice rose for you sir...maybe your pretty girlfriend no?" "No." "But they nice roses sir...you want." "No." The kid reached forward and placed is hand into the pocket of the older boy. He had his hand on the leather. He began to retrieve what he thought would be his lunch. An open palm connected with the boys face with such force the slap was heard half way down the block. The young pick pocket had his feet lifted from the ground, the wind forced from his lungs and then he found the pavement. Silence enveloped and surrounded the gang of youngsters. The youngest sat there on the pavement with his eyes that stretched and widened with every hanging second. Time seemed frozen. And then, the scream came. Loud, piercing and assured. Time resumed. Ten pairs of pupils settled on the culprit, whose actions it seemed, and just caught up with his brain. Then chaos. The young boys found beer bottles and some broke them and hurled them and others just hurled them. The brave ran towards him and jumped using the bottles as a sort of club, striking down on the back of his neck, his stomach and head. Others found sticks and threw them like spears. Mud was sprayed. The two boys who remained stared in disbelief as they were taunted and threatened by the gang. They made a pass for the road. They waved their arms, but no one would stop. Eventually they hailed a taxi. They grabbed their friend who was, by now, a pile of mud and blood and glass shards and threw him in the taxi. "To the hospital," they screamed in Spanish. They drove away- their rear view mirror flashes of violence and worlds shattered. The day had, by then, reached boiling and all around seared in pain.

Grey Hair

Sit in chair
Open eye
Sun light
Pour
In
Through

Venetian
Blind
Coffee smug
You watch bird
Who knew you like
Newspaper crossword?

Overheard
'You know the thing about burnt bridges is that they can be rebuilt'

Sitting by the lake

'Hey mister'
'Get out of here kid...go on..beat it'
'But I want to sit here...'
'Well you can't'
'Why'
'Because I've had a really rough week and I just want to be left in peace.'
'Maybe you should try talking to someone...that's what my mum always tells me.'
'Yeah like i'm going to take advice from a nine year old'
'I am ten...actually'
'Didn't your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers?'
'Yeah, but she also said if someone looked sad that I should try to help them...'
'This mum of yours sounds like an incredible lady'
'Oh she is. So, tell me your problem'
'I can't believe I am about to open up to a ten year old I just met'
'Thats ok mister, I read a lot and my mother tells me i'm p..persistant'
'Persistent?'
'Yeah, thats it'
'...and your problem?'
'Oh. Right. Well...the work I do for a living makes me miserable, the women I loved left me and I feel as if no one cares'
'I care'
'Well thats very nice of you but all the same...I don't count on ten year olds for moral support'
'Thats a shame...you see...me...that's all I count on...times are happy...we still have dreams...ignorance is bliss and all that yadda yadda..just a regular peter pan mister'
'That must be nice'
'I care about you'
'You said that'
'No I mean, I really do care about you'
'Why'
'Well...mister...er...the fact of the matter is...well...I think your my dad'

Letting Up Despite Great Faults: "Our Younger Noise" from Christopher j Ewing on Vimeo.