WESTSIDE STORY:

 

I heard the last chord of a CD and bought it then flinched at the 

sound of a radio controlled car coming up the hall. It was a 

Disney Cartoon of a day, a cul-de-sac of a crowded room of smiles. 

I levitated at the centre of a rain cloud, withdrawing from the  

mirthful throng as that tiny machine crept closer, concealing it’s 

odious intentions behind whimsical collisions, spinning it’s tiny 

rubber wheels in the hall for Daddy, who punctuated time with yelps 

and exaltations as the bones of the diminutive beast gouged holes 

in mommy’s immaculate skirting.

 

(K)