She just can’t help but notice a badge on his jacket: “We Are All The Same Inside”. She smiles: he must have a boyfriend and a wide range of friends. His Facebook page is mainly about important events; his Tumblr account is filled with topical articles and progressive posts. Only reblogs, of course, he doesn’t usually write anything himself. He is a shy warrior for social justice against social realism. Older generation is unwilling to understand him; his parents comfort him, clenching their teeth — his life must be hard enough. So here he is, depressed and crushed, as today in his conservative university he’ll be forced once again to stand against the living definition of patriarchy — his tin professor of philosophy. “Good luck, brother”.
He just can’t help but notice her bright red Docs. He grins: she must be on her way to a concert of some trashy-sounding band. She’ll get drunk with some friends, whose names she hardly remembers. She hasn’t shown up to college in weeks. This morning her parents have managed to send her out but it won’t help: she had decided to drop out before she even was accepted. There is no surprise, really, as she has always been a bad learner. When in the fourth grade she lit her first cigarette, it had been already decided that at this moment her cheap headphones would play punk and nothing but punk. “Good luck, sister”.
Of course, they are both wrong.
Two poets look at each other.
No comments:
Post a Comment