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Odin odin@aflx.com, click here
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Some flash fiction on the art of seeing what is arguably important to be seen.
Surreal Dummy
Wasn't always this way
didn't ask for retirement
5th Ave suited me fine
but
new is new
old is old
or so i'm made to believe
no longer a mannequin
just a small town dummy in a window now
miss the noise of energy on fire
the cab horns
sirens
boy
lots of sirens
the subway below
rattling my window above
a kid's ice cream hands
smudging the glass
while nanny flirts with the dog walker
people
and more people
the persistent gaze of wanting
passing-window-temptation highs
after-window-temptations lows
back at Saks i saw it all
even the priest from across the street
St Patrick's walls housed his soul
but I owned his lust for Armani
what stayed consistent though
was the gaze of dogs
on 5th Ave they'd stand patiently
while their master squinted
tilted head
craned neck
and dreamed
the dogs?
well I knew they knew
were it not for the window
shielding me
i'd be his next tree trunk
fire hydrant
or lamppost marking
here at Seth's Mercantile
Tishamingo Oklahoma's finest
i'm dressed in a cheap
Sunday-go-to-meetin' suit
got this cute little number
standin' next to me
female dummy in white lace and frills
even a white straw hat
just like Easter on 5th Ave
forced retirement sucks
i could complain
but I won't
we get lots of looks
specially from the bib overall types
whether the farmer
or the farmeress
they look at me different
not like city folk
less want
more need
you know
novel as hell
when you think about it really
and the dogs?
they just glance
lift a leg
and do it
‘need' winnin' out again
eh
gets my glass cleaned daily
why complain
retired and livin' out my days
livin' out my days
but i've seen more
than some might think i've seen
a lot more
i've seen people
and dogs do things
when they thought no one was looking
my dresser says that's what it's all about
like a fly on the wall
he says
don't know what he means
but got plenty of them down here
the flies
I mean
all seemin' to love hangin' out in my window
hell of a way to deal with loneliness
ya know?
damn
buz
buzz
buzzzz
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I can't help thinking about old age when the dummy is left in some attic or barn loft for many years, only to be discovered by pickers in decrepit condition like some corpse dug up from the grave and deposited in someone's living room as a curiosity piece of artwork.
Ron
budd
Glad you spared him a thought.