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| The family rope
He stands on a chair in the garage, rope around his neck, He stands on the edge of falling, shooting away, disappearing between the planets, the benches in the park he loves. He knows what he is doing. The reason why. And if it wasn't for this reason, there would always be another one to kill himself, with this rope, his rope. He used it to tow cars, the neighbour's cars. His kids used to play with it. He is alone with his rope which always has a purpose; 'cause a rope is a rope. The neighbours moved away. Their houses demolished. New houses were built. Apart from his house all the others are new, with neat fences, white gates. Their dogs and cats roam the neighbourhood. Expensive cats. Shiny dogs with long leashes. The people in their new houses have new cars. They don't need towing. Besides, it is a dirty rope. After he is gone, eternally, one of his son's will take the rope and use it for all sorts of things, perhaps a swing, tug of war - He is sure of that. The rope has what you call a life. Hanging he kicks the chair away. 14.April.2007 |