Neil Carpathios

N e i l  C a r p a t h i o s

next

    In the Middle of a Day Like Any Other

A woman with dreadlocks 

mumbling, carrying a shopping bag 

full of god-knows-what,

a man in a torn sweatshirt

dragging one leg

like his pet on a leash.

I watch from across the street.

The woman points to his leg, 

says something.

The man answers.

She reaches into her bag,

pulls out a plastic flower,

stem and all,

hands it to him the way a child would

and he bows his head in thanks.

They shuffle past,

shoulders brushing,

continuing in opposite directions,

both homeless

on the surface of a planet,

unaware at this second

as she mumbles again

and he returns to pulling

on the attached dead

part of himself,

that they are glowing

from something inside them

flaring, like fireflies

in a jar.