Copyright © 2003 LeeAnn Heringer
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Copyright © 2003 LeeAnn Heringer
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mixing my fortune cookiesback from the mountains, from a fleeting summer vacation, Chinese & Indian engineers crowd me at the train platform, all elbows & knees. there aren’t many seats this far up the line. a bright yellow curb with raised dots, the unquivered arrow of two rusted tracks headed north. headed south. pigeons peck at crumbs & small garbage, small dove heads on fat bodies, rise up with the nail gun kka-klack kka-klack of beating wings. this is not a still moment for contemplation. a huge, soft black man in a chef hat & a brown jumpsuit woven with pictures of food forces a cellophane wrapped card on me. “efood.com. order your lunch on-line. never leave your desk.” a small white haired man, carrying a clear ziplock bag of fruit, puts a torn scrap of lined paper in my hand & smiles, distant as a monk. “death is a lie perpetrated by the white man” two fortune cookie scraps, one in each hand, & as I bring my left & my right together, they mix into a single thought— I could use the Internet to fake my death. rise up & abandon my desk. |
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