Conversations From The Thick

     “What do you see when you look at the world Ben? Would you describe the color of the clouds as dangerous, do you think the ground looks haunted and wet, huh? Sometimes I don’t think we see the same thing, sometimes I think I am all alone out here, in a totally different place from you, from everyone. How can you look at me right now and not see the noose around my fucking neck? The rope just hanging there.”
     I pull a cigarette out from the front pocket of my pea-coat and accuse him with it. He lights it like a memory, like a reflex for all the times we’ve tumbled, won, and drowned. The rain doesn’t move it thickens, collects those beads that remind us of the hard work we’ve put in for out whole lives, all the sweat. We whisper urgently, caught between a growl and a groan. A howl that escapes and gets lost, like we are. Like things thrown in the sea.

     “I see a storm when I look outside Raf, I see the rope but I got the knife. I see a way out of this shit, if we get in this cab and make two right decisions we can win. We’re the hungriest we’ve ever been in our entire lives, right here, right now. There’s no way were not gonna eat tonight, you know what I mean brother? I can see you. I swear."
     We are the two big fish in this picture. I am the one with my back turned.