Inscape 04 FINAL - Pasadena City College

the corners, that thoughts started flushing my mind.
They were kid thoughts, about death. You could
file them next to beasts under the bed &
killer toys—
scary and ominous thoughts; helpless feelings.
A gulp burrowed down my throat.
I ran home and hid.
4.
In cotton night-clothes,I climbed into bed aware
of the faint light entering my window—
I did not know the source. Somewhere outside
is a man who killed my friend’s dad, I thought,
he could be anywhere, creeping along tight alleys
or staring at his next victim, & there could
be others
like him too—following his lead or searing
their own ugly path.
I pictured busy molecules bumping into each other—
Mr. Rogers had shown me this earlier today on TV.
I saw blood. I recalled the pensive look that
was always on
Isaac’s face, and he was always so quiet,
maybe he was thinking
of his dad all that time; I would. I wondered
what was in
the sewers; we tried to open a manhole the
other day, it was too heavy.
Do killers make wishes and blow out candles on
their birthdays?;
do they relive the moments they ended others’
lives in their minds?
I remembered one time I kicked Isaac in the
stomach because
he said I had a big head, and he fell to the
floor & cried; to this day
I have never harbored a sharper guilt than that.
These were just the sort of strange thoughts
I always got seconds before falling asleep.
Los Angeles by Train
L ISA K ELL Y
Juan Hernandez,
weary at the dusk of another Wednesday,
waits.
Orange vest, blue sanitation cart.
Rumbling traffic cuts through the evening air.
A tall man strolls by carrying a carved wooden
shelf.
The train rattles into the station.
How much of our lives do we spend waiting?
J. Z. Wayne,
swimming in the music on his silver walkman,
jams.
Shiny black sweatsuit, pulled-down cap.
He flies by streets with red lights flashing,
but doesn’t even look out the window.
Eyes shut, he grooves to the beat
as a grandmother holding her baby grandson
walks by.
J. Z. doesn’t see them.
Does anyone on this train have a gun?
Layla Fonseca,
INSCAPE • 44 INSCAPE • 45