Get a life

Greetings,

She kept talking to no one in particular, hoping someone would listen.
“Will you get married again?”
“No. I won’t get married again. Marriage is like a business deal with bad sex.”

old grey haired man
observes ghosts
dancing through soft shadows of night
curling dark thick shanghai

young lovers hide in shadows
fish seller sleeps
two boys dance in truck lights
a woman with three bags of rice
sits by empty fur coat store
counting a grain

chinese man trailed by wife
tired of the city
labors their belongings
in plastic bags on thin shoulders

incognito nature shadows walls

She took off her glasses revealing layers of dark smudged eyeliner.
Trucks loaded with cement, paper products and garbage
rumbled past the open door throwing dust into the air.

“Yeah,” she said, “well, my ex-husband works at the nut house
and he has trouble with them people so he’ll probably sue.”

They talked about everything but mostly he listened to her pain.
They shared emotions and feelings and she was surprised at his openness.
Their reality and distant security increased emotional truth and trust.
They spent hours in conversations full of laughter,
insight, confronting grief and loss and discovering themselves.
Their communication bills were staggering.

They were lost, looking, open and honest.
They talked about their dysfunctional families,
about the absence of love
facing sexual humiliations.

“I worked in a hospital once,” she said. “I hated the stress of working in an operating room during heart surgeries. The ancient surgeons were inept with their chauvinist attitudes.
“I felt uncomfortable working with an ex-boyfriend, so I quit.
"I’m not good at handling this breakup. I need to find a new job.
"I need to get a life."

Peace.