(2nd draft) A bit of prosetry and flash fiction on the art of seeing what is arguably (to me, anyway) important to be seen. How about this neon outfit, eh?
Surreal Dummy--Still Here.
by Odin Roark
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 his head,
craned his neck,
and dreamed.
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.
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.
Funny how they surreptitiously glance,
lift a leg and do it.
‘Need'' winnin'' out again, eh?
Gets my glass cleaned daily.
Why complain.
So…
Just retired and livin'' out my days,
livin'' out my days.
But, just between us…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, you know?
My dresser says that''s what it''s all about.
Says I live the life of a fly on the wall.
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?
Company’s company, though.
Buz,
Buzz,
Buzzzz.
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Ron