The Clouds

This new article had come out in one of the nation’s top magazines

about how interrupting others is healthy for the new consciousness

attention deficit disorder had helped to create, ironically. As a result,

you couldn’t walk down the street without someone getting in your

face and making you stop whatever it was you were doing. A man

who usually sat on the street corner by the cupcake store smoking

a cigarette peacefully jumped up and got in my grill. “How are the

clouds today?” he said. “They seem to be fine. How are you doing?”

I said. I saw you looking down at your feet,” he said. “Just now or

at some time in the past?” I said. The man pushed his nose into my

nose. I tried to tell him to stop, but each time I tried he asked me a

random question and pushed harder into me and then asked another

question. He got a little drool on me. I tried to tell him to stop and

that he was hurting me a little, but I couldn’t get a word in. I had little

choice but to walk away. “Avoiding your problems again?” he said.

He tried to catch up to me. A woman holding a bag of groceries who

just exited the Co-op, tripped me and I fell. “Fine day, don’t you think?”

she said. Then she walked away. Meanwhile, the man had gotten down

on all fours and was shaking his head back and forth above my face

like a dog with a stuffed animal. I started to cry, but some of his hair

got in my eye.

Published
Categorized as Poetry Tagged

By Chris Russell

Chris Russell’s poems have appeared in Mouse Tales Press, The Cafe Review, The Poet's Touchstone, Centripetal and Slope Magazine. He holds an MFA in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts, and lives in Concord, New Hampshire where, when not writing, drawing, or playing video games, he follows a calling as a Special Education Paraprofessional.