Friday, September 3, 2010
A Sampling of Complaints
She said, the coffee tastes like cigarettes, pushing it across the table, offensive. Over there, pock-faced man sad, the pot roast was stringy, conquered carcass hoisted by fork, lame with gristle. A sampling of complaints written on paper scraps: the bathrooms smell like urine, the pay is meager, the owner has octopus hands. Two youths sat across the street, heads full of unwritten grievances, spray paint cans in backpack, lighters in back pocket and pondered, who will they deface, how will they burn.
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A sampling of complaints written in quite an elegantly lyrical way. Love this" "...conquered carcass hoisted by fork, lame with gristle."
ReplyDeleteNo complaints about your microfiction! :)
It's interesting to see your writing clipped like this. But it works, it so works. Like a chop-shop working on gutting a car good.
ReplyDeleteReally now, is there no place like home?
ReplyDeleteRene
I also loved the line "...conquered carcass hoisted by fork, lame with gristle." I like the chopped style for complaints. They seem to compliment one another.
ReplyDeletePeople are always whining about something. Coffee that tastes like cigarettes - hey, what a concept!
ReplyDelete