Poetry

NO. Innocent. Goodbye...

Noi tieng Anh?

Do you speak English?

A million cars rush bye.

City of confusion, the old world and the new.

Technological chaos is this dystopian stew.

He opens his eyes and he wonders at this life.

He is only five, though he holds the flier...

Advertisement for Toshiba's new turbo drive.

Madam, madam! This way madam...

I look down...

His eyes are brown, glassy-brown.

I decide, straight is the way to walk.

He matches my stride, trying to catch my eye.

Wares spring from nowhere! - I politely smile.

Into those eyes, those glassy-brown eyes.

For a moment he is mine,

And his eyes are the eyes of a child.

I wish I could transport him,

Through space and time.

This reality is a crime.

We stand on the edge he and I.

His small hand clasped in mine.

One tiny step and we'll fall...

Plummet across the line and tumble.

Spinning out of control, into this world

Where red reads green and you solo dance.

Twirling towards tomorrow,

So tired, so fast, you miss today's sorrow.

In a moment I am back, here at the stand.

With a note in my hand.

There are tears in our eyes, his and mine.

I don't remember why we cry - how or why?

Was it the sun that hurt my eyes?

In an awkward moment - the polite reply.

Reflected in his eyes are the cars rushing bye.

He no longer cries, but he knows why.

I am the child who wants to hide.

Evelyn McNamara 11/1/2010.