Saturday Morning

outside: snow.

in here:
angry woman poolside
smacks her husband's arm:
'i should throw your fucking phone
in the trash.'

through the glass we watch
bus shelter girl
          mummified against the cold
          dancing like it's disco
not snow
dropping down
from slate grey skies.

angry woman's son
drops his game
forms a pudgy fist
and belts dad.

smiles for mom:
'i hit him too!'

dad shrugs it off. doesn't even
look up. this is--
apparently--
the way life is.

'you don't hit,' he says
to nobody, to the boy.
'hitting is for parents,
not for children.'

'then don't act like
such a child,' she says.
end of conversation.

the dancer keeps on dancing.
we watch her instead, smile
and look away from
the small train wrecks
of everyday life.

snow keeps coming down:
music
for the outside world.



I like to open my notebook and people-watch while I'm waiting poolside for the boys to finish swimming lessons. Sadly, I don't always like what I see. ~Feb. 11/12


~tom shea
www.trioarjento.com
www.facebook.com/trioarjento
http://trioarjento.bandcamp.com/album/love-lets-go