Beauty Seen is Never Lost

I’d purchase a trailer – one of those with beige exteriors, yellowed by too much exposure to the sun. I’d want it used, I’d want that dried paint under its windows to look rusted and pale - too decayed to move, too absolute in its immobiliness to resemble a car.
I’d come across it, and know, that it’s here- the place I’d be able to empty those bruised leftovers that once were potential expressions perishing at the tip of my tongue, unspoken, and behind my palms, unwritten.
I imagine I’d stand there, looking at it until the shades of trees become duller and fuller, because I wouldn’t be able to decide if I’d choose to paint it royal blue or that Indigo of a night spent on the beach.
I’d decide then to smear “Cap ou pas Cap” on one back, with the grimmest of blacks, that of dice dots and “i “ ‘s in contract signatures. I’d dare it then, to show me the life that sneaked out underneath my doors one Monday afternoon while I was too busy sharpening my pencils to look for suitcases.
I’d vacuum its floor right about then, just to hear that sound of it turning into a living accommodation. I’d buy shades not curtains, and an out-of-place looking fridge I’ve spotted once and wondered what worldly sensible house would place an England-flagged item in its kitchen. But there, I’d contain them all- the odd, the misfit, and reject, animate or not. And on its contrived interior, I’d frame,
No,
I’d plaster two photographs; one of a black and white Road billboard of 1930 branch of Dunkin Doughnuts, and the other of a crowded airport gate.
Nothing more to it,
to that trailer I’d drag to the end of the world by its rusty handle. All those acres of forests I’d dreamed of touching upon lightly, and thrift stores in the middle of nowheres, that sell crisps in orange packets and sodas in retro cans.
Nothing more to it than a child, who poured milk in see-through glasses and stepped on charcoal just to glimpse an adventure, an escape, a gateway where stories were told, somewhere out there.

Posted by Diddlina at 1:53 PM