Sunday Morning
Gazing across the Trailer Park morning dew glistens on overgrown lawns, as the sun rises, empties strewn randomly in the grass sparkle like jewels in this dawn of day. Saturday night has past, Hank Sr has fallen silent, distant echoes of Stand by your Man and the wailing of police sirens, shouting and gun fire ebb from my mind. The prayers of the neighbors wife heard through the walls at 3am "oh god-oh god-oh god" have apparently been answered, silence stills this morning.
Hot coffee flows and warms my tired bones as the roaches scurry across the kitchen floor seeking refuge from the invasive light into the dark recesses of a cockroach underworld. A constant flurry of church vans pass by my window, come to gather those that have repentance for their sins of the previous Saturday night. A house-coated neighbor groans as she reaches for her morning paper, the folds of her belly fat strain the vertebrae that have given her the gift to walk upright to the kitchen for yet another jelly roll.
Some would see this community as a melting pot of emotional turmoil but what lies within this spiced stew is nothing less then life at it's purest form. Instinct, or whats left of man after crawling from that slime pool of life. There is no pretense of society or false empathy, nothing less then want and need. The establishment of being ruler of a 30X80 tract of land, King of all that their drug and alcohol induced visions might encompass.
I watch from the window of my kingdom, It is the dawning of a new day and life begins again.
RC
Copyright ©
RC Arts | Year Posted 2015
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