the things you say part 5

the things you say part 5

the feeding room is long and bright. bright when you look upwards anyway, towards the ground it is darker, cast in shadow from the lines and rows of plastic coated tables, providing plate resting places for the hoardes. there are hoardes in here. the silence shattered by sounds of eating, ingestion, biting, slurping, sucking, chewing. a chant, now and then, one solitary voice, sing song, hot food hot food hot food. no-one takes a blind piece of notice. heads down. scoffing by the shadows at the floor, to the knee.
 
there is a queue. of course there is a queue. i join it at the end. of course i do. i wait. crane my neck now and then hoping to get a sight of todays delights. will there be custard. it's all i want to know. will there be custard.
 
i left the other place, grey room sparse, one bright light flickering against a wall. I left there and wandered along the corridors, a moment of outside, rain lashing, cold, denting skin to get here. i left you, behind, back there, maybe still sitting on my chair. i wanted to stay and talk and laugh and poke and prod and find and know and hear and share and laugh and laugh and listen and speak. but i cannot do that, can i. i can't let you know this about me. can i? so, watch me, careless, carefree, as unconstrained as i imagine i can be, i, nonchalent walk out of the door. i don't care. do you see? not at all. it's as though there were all the time in the world, and we know, do we not, that there surely is not.
 
as i leave, carefree me, i throw a tiny remark out into the air, a puff, dandelion kiss, stating where i will be. as i walk, slowly away, i see you look towards me. i want to beckon. wink. lift my skirt. i walk and drink in the fading tones of your voice, i hold it as long as i can, i hear it still in the silence, such loud silence, i hold it and then know that the quiet is just that and silence is booming with wanting, nothing more, anymore. the fading tail of your sound, you in my world is gone.
 
fuck it i think. and fuck you. fuck you you fucker. chase me. go on do a bit of work yourself. me, i do it all, put it out there, give you bits and you see, and give nothing to me, nothing real, nothing i can put my hands on, so fuck you matey. fuck off.
 
fuck you
 
the doors open. they are double doors, sealed in their midst with rubber, air filled rubber, that shushes and squeaks when it catches, it touches. i hear it. i want to turn my head but do not. i see you, corner of my eye. there you are, you, come to join us here in the feeding room. such a surprise. so unusual. was it my dandelion kiss that drew you here. i'll say it was. i will not look at you, alone, just behind me, there in the queue. i will pretend i can not see you. you say, i overhear, you say 'pasta's good'. i pick up brown plastic curved edged tray. pasta please, i say, to the masked man in white with blue gloves on his hands, surgical procedures anyone? he's ready as he'll ever be to slit me open, take out my heart, sew me back up. he ladles pasta, ladles like it's soup, i can't drink it, onto my plate. i finger the plastic cutlery until i find some clean, untouched so i hope at the bottom of the grey moulded plastic pot. 
 
i sit. head bowed waiting for the sound and scent of you passing by. damp sand crushed underfoot against a hot concrete path in summer, that is how you smell today. it is an arid scent. a scent that tags like clothing against bramble. i love it.
 
there you go. you sit close by. just close enough for occasional tangs to reach me. you know i am here. i know you are there. you say to someone, loudly, you say something about a man that lost the lot, lost it all. that man, i know is you, and you are telling me.
 
i eat the pasta. it is unbelievably good. it is great. a darkness falls across me, i look up. you have left your plate, food half eaten, are standing still chewing, looking at me. close. you have something to say to me. it's pretty important, i can see that. there are small flecks of green sitting on your teeth, is it cabbage, is it lettuce. i don't care. i love those flecks of green in your teeth. i wish that i were one. that close to you.