AS-I Dash Up Mommy...

I Dash Up... Night’s over I join the rush- Dishes in the sink It’s early morning. I can see the rising sun dimly behind the curtains. I can hear a long cock-a-doodle-doo come from the rare orchards left among the packing-box order of architecture. The voice is followed by a few bars of tomcats’ brawls and ended with a loud engine alarm. It’s now broad gray daylight. Businessmen, businesswomen are leaving their homes with a guiless air for skyscapers where they work. There’s a nasty smog in the air. I’m a trifle uneasy. My mother will soon start complaining of her rheumatism; my father will soon call me to his aid to tend the artificial eye he carries after his glaucoma surgery. My parents the authors of my being- Two dry leaves I wonder if I’ll have time today to read my two new books purchased weeks ago. A cry of despair I let fall a plate- Both my parents are on the floor Ayten Suvak