Ode, by Deborah

From the eyes of the beholder. . .

There is an old saying: “You cannot truly understand a person’s experience until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. . .” and thus:

Ode, by Deborah

He stands at the end of the checkout; face and eyes devoid of emotion - devoid, did I load the dishwasher before I left? Dishes: “hey the dish soap can’t go with the cans.” Why is he tossing the cans like that, what is he, a teenager?

I’m getting pretty old now, I can’t carry very much weight: “hey you, that bag is way too heavy, how am I supposed to get it upstairs?”

Stares, oh God he stares a hole into my face, his eyes seem out of face like T.J. Eckelburg - Gatsby was a good book I should reread it sometime. Time, oh God look at the time: “can you hurry up, I have places to be and things to get done.” Done is how he looks at me, that stare again, my face feels as though it’s tearing.

Wait, just like that bag: “double that on -”

“If you don’t like my method, do it yourself.”

I don’t know what it means either.

Thomas Bascom

Author's Note

Written as a final on PostModernism for American Literature, all grammatical errors are intentional