darkness prompting

He was curled in a ball in the front seat of my car.
His drawing pad resting on his knobby knees.
The pencil had been at rest for the past 15 minutes.
Why?
He was never without inspiration.

Are you tired?
No.
Are you angry?
No.
Why can't you draw?
I don't know.
Are you... too sad?
He shook his head and turned to look out the window.

He hadn't been the same since it happened
and the image of him in my mind's eye
had been much altered
slowly fading
until he wasn't just looking out the window
he was on the other side of it.

03.28.00


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