There were patches on his elbows and lines on his face. The professor was getting old, they all knew it. Some couldn’t accept it. Some could. Professor was of the latter group.
She walks around with a black patch over her blue eye. Her other eye is brown. She likes it better. She hides the blue. She never goes near the ocean unless it’s gray. She doesn’t look toward the sky unless it’s raining. If by accident she sees something blue, she cringes, she puts her hands up to her brown eye to avoid the sight. The blue eye with the patch on it can see blue even through the patch. She is one strange woman. She calls herself A Patch of Trouble.
A patchwork of things on clothes. A collection of memories. Stiching identity together to create a whole. Can a combination of patches make up a whole? What is a whole? The patches were once divisible, but now they make up a whole. Can they now be divided, taken away from their whole?
Just a patch of grass in the middle of the concrete city–a secret garden with locks on the gate–nobody comes in or out. But if you see it on just the right day with the right slant of light, you will get a glimpse of Eden.
patches do nothing they conceal problems you hear people talking about patching up marriages but that’s just what they do when they are to lazy to dig deeper and fix the real problem
El parche cubría más la cicatriz que la oquedad. De todos modos ese ojo nunca sirvió para nada. Cubierto por una fina nata de polvillo desde que era un niño, había sido inutilizado desde siempre. por eso jamás vio del lazo izquierdo. por eso ese perro lo atacó sin que él supiera qué fue.
Jerry and Tabitha had been going through a rough patch, after over seventeen years of marriage. Jerry was unhappy at his job, Tabitha couldn’t stand staying at home, and their efforts at having children, for what seemed like ages, had been fruitless (pun intended. Thanks, Bible). So Tabitha had gone to visit her parents, and Jerry, much to my “surprise,” was crashing at my pad, drinking my beers and playing my video games once he got home from another long shift at the grocery store.
She looked at him, then – really looked at this boy with those god-awful puppy dog eyes.
“And what happens if … stuff … doesn’t work out?” she asked, and didn’t fight it when her fingers slowly began to inch towards his.
Allan shrugged, fidgeting with the patch on his bag. “Then it doesn’t. We’d never know if we didn’t try, though.”
“I could hurt you.”
He smiled at her. “Then I guess I could try that, too.”
“We sound like a badly-written romance novel,” she said. “The kind I hate.”
He laughed, then, and took her hand in his. She noted how warm he felt, how his palm seemed to wrap twice around hers, long fingers gentle and barely there. Without another word, she pulled him in by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him. It was messy, all teeth and no tongue, and she felt him smile all the way through it.
There were patches on his elbows and lines on his face. The professor was getting old, they all knew it. Some couldn’t accept it. Some could. Professor was of the latter group.
She walks around with a black patch over her blue eye. Her other eye is brown. She likes it better. She hides the blue. She never goes near the ocean unless it’s gray. She doesn’t look toward the sky unless it’s raining. If by accident she sees something blue, she cringes, she puts her hands up to her brown eye to avoid the sight. The blue eye with the patch on it can see blue even through the patch. She is one strange woman. She calls herself A Patch of Trouble.
A patchwork of things on clothes. A collection of memories. Stiching identity together to create a whole. Can a combination of patches make up a whole? What is a whole? The patches were once divisible, but now they make up a whole. Can they now be divided, taken away from their whole?
Just a patch of grass in the middle of the concrete city–a secret garden with locks on the gate–nobody comes in or out. But if you see it on just the right day with the right slant of light, you will get a glimpse of Eden.
patches do nothing they conceal problems you hear people talking about patching up marriages but that’s just what they do when they are to lazy to dig deeper and fix the real problem
I like to go to school because school is a cozy family to me.
Test
El parche cubría más la cicatriz que la oquedad. De todos modos ese ojo nunca sirvió para nada. Cubierto por una fina nata de polvillo desde que era un niño, había sido inutilizado desde siempre. por eso jamás vio del lazo izquierdo. por eso ese perro lo atacó sin que él supiera qué fue.
“Hey”, said a voice. I looked around. The crows did their thing, cawing. “I’m here.” It was the scarecrow, looking at me askance, with one beady eye.
Jerry and Tabitha had been going through a rough patch, after over seventeen years of marriage. Jerry was unhappy at his job, Tabitha couldn’t stand staying at home, and their efforts at having children, for what seemed like ages, had been fruitless (pun intended. Thanks, Bible). So Tabitha had gone to visit her parents, and Jerry, much to my “surprise,” was crashing at my pad, drinking my beers and playing my video games once he got home from another long shift at the grocery store.
She looked at him, then – really looked at this boy with those god-awful puppy dog eyes.
“And what happens if … stuff … doesn’t work out?” she asked, and didn’t fight it when her fingers slowly began to inch towards his.
Allan shrugged, fidgeting with the patch on his bag. “Then it doesn’t. We’d never know if we didn’t try, though.”
“I could hurt you.”
He smiled at her. “Then I guess I could try that, too.”
“We sound like a badly-written romance novel,” she said. “The kind I hate.”
He laughed, then, and took her hand in his. She noted how warm he felt, how his palm seemed to wrap twice around hers, long fingers gentle and barely there. Without another word, she pulled him in by the scruff of his shirt and kissed him. It was messy, all teeth and no tongue, and she felt him smile all the way through it.