The bedroom door is barred.On one side, a child playing solitaire.A forced, unfazed expression;steady, focused, plays the part.Protection from his ear drum’s rocking,wondering himself, “For what transgression?” On the other, incessant knocking.Screaming voices, feign discretion.Dust is settled, door unbarred.The door creaks open, looking in,a pause for quiet contemplation.Inside: the child playing cards,steady, focused, ready.
Author Archives: Juan A.
Sunday
The sky is perfectly clear except for the occasional, fluffy, billowing cloud. The wind is nothing more than a breeze that consistently moves past. It’s warm enough to play and run in a t-shirt and shorts but cool enough that you won’t get a heatstroke. Looking around there is nothing to see except the squareContinue reading “Sunday”
Juan A Archive 