So this guy… he’s quiet, sitting uncomfortably in his “made-only-for-cheap-restaurants” chair on wheels, under dim dirty lights, feeling a little more secure wrapped in stale, smokey air… He sits with his companion- another being possessing the same lanky, insecurity of his own importance; to others, to himself and the one opposite the table. They talk of past “outrages” they have experienced that are seemingly amplified with time. For lack of other stories and new inquisitions with laughter dying and reminded of the restrictions of the chair that has squeezed the enveloped deposits from other sittings such as this, he adjusts himself, stretches burdonous arms and scans the room as non-chalantly as he is able.
Catching the attention of another he quickly drops his eyes and heavy limbs to the sides of his chair and regards the person opposite him as if he forgot to look at him before. The other is impatiently waiting for the desserts they have ordered seemingly hours ago. And both breathe a wee bit easier as the fudged, creamed, and cherried delights enter their fields of vision, for now, words will not be so strenuously achieved, for new subject matter is brought for a small price. [As if he were the galant knight that slayed the dragon for this feast,] he stops to comment and toast before allowing himself to instinctually “dive-in” and inhale the cakey victim of obscene caloric-proportions. To put love back in his life, the universe listened momentarily to his [once] unreachable desire [that] twisted in the dimensions of his eyes.
[“To the unexpected sweetness that comes into our lives!”]
(1990’s. J. E. Todd)
Thin Tin String 