Saturday, August 26, 2006

Baggage check

It’s gonna be a tough day. How are you? I am fine. I can tell when you lie because your mouth smiles but your eyes don’t. Miss Johansson puts her gun away. Men in suits are bustling around, scribbling down lines of guilt and wisdom on memo pads. Some of the girls look scared, I need to protect them. But two people got sacked today. I am watching the flock of birds sitting up the roof, singing useless songs. Who is going to protect me? My heart is aching, I should go see the doctor. The girl with red hair would like to have a baby. I don’t love you anymore, her Japanese lover says. I see her running through the woods while heavy winds come up, she pulls on my sleeve, she’s anxious, she’s out of her mind. We spend the night together, in a poky chambre d'hôte in Alsace but I do not touch her. Down in the factory, the machines are groaning, spitting out shreds of metal, rules of conduct. The McKinsey man gets choleric, I see stains of sweat on his suit.

I walk out the door, take the next flight to Marseille.