Play Nice

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[This is where the summary would go if I'd bothered to write one.]

« CandyWeek 9 »
Down in the basement

Things were good that day.
But down in the basement he cried.

Often he went there to get away from things.
Angry voices, hurt feelings. Tired accusations. Giggling and screaming.

The unfinished walls smelled like wet concrete.
He liked that this room was always a little cooler than the rest of the house.

This room always made him feel better.

Down in the basement he cried.
Loud sobs that would have traveled through the thin walls on the floors above.

Down in the basement the cool concrete blocks absorbed the sound.

He sat in his lazy-boy chair wit his eyes closed,
his body bent over at the waist. His hands covered his face.

He wasn’t the sort of man who often cried.
He didn’t understand this need to open his mouth

and let his heart crawl out.
The tears and sobs subsided and he opened his eyes.

Down in the basement was where the boys had played.
Had played. Had. The word locked his brain.

He said it aloud and felt the words fall on his chest. Had played.

Down in the basement was where loud music had been welcomed.
Where the slight sound of a needle finding its groove never went out of style.

Where young bodies had created heat and
feet had shuffled unsure and unprepared for life.

Where bodies were safe and the only things careening
out of control were hormones and imaginations.

Down in the basement the man cried.
Down in the basement the cool concrete blocks absorbed the sound.

Published 04/02/03 in Writing • | Views: 1858 times | Print

2 Comments & Trackbacks

“He didn’t understand this need to open his mouth/and let his heart crawl out.”

Wow, Patricia—that was so soulful. You word-juggle purty good, for a girl. (snicker) Really, that was awesome. What atmosphere. Climbing inside of the opposite sex and then describing the picture is very difficult and you did it. Brava!

Posted by Kate S.  on  04/06  at  03:11 PM

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