Homesick

there's a boy leaving home on the train - i can see him see his mother on the platform trying not to cry - the boy knows no restraint too young to hold it in he's bawling - for a moment he is me & i can feel that sad old fear of separation grown into stoicism followed by pure obliviousness - you grow up not to cry you leave so as not to give up who you are - your stories jokes hobbies - but it's a lie a cruel hoax - because one day it won't be you who's leaving - no it will be your own mother getting onto that train to leave forever to pull away in that black carriage the pane of glass making final chats impossible & tears? well they're for boys or for grown women & yet there they are - on your own face small & soft but still there for all of your bravado - it is a form of sickness after all whose remedy is the act - & later after several stops you look over at the boy who's now wearing headphones & he's not crying anymore - but you can see the sickness of home there still (in his pale stunned face

Comments

sarah said…
I know how the little boy feels. You can really write, you know?
xxx s
Anonymous said…
hi David,I emailed at your gmail as below. I am wondering if it delivered properly.****
***Hello David,
I am the artist introduced by Bridget at the gallery party on last Thursday.
How are you?
Regarding the trip(??) for the show of Asian Art Festival in Pocheon, outside Seoul. I am arranging sometime next week, I am wondering if you are still interested in.
I am still flexible though for the schedule, so you can add your convenience if you want, then we can adjust it.
OK, Talk more later.
Wonjoo(joowjoo@naver.com)
Anonymous said…
My favourite poem of your adventure. Come home soon Davey.

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