Girl, boy, man, woman

• Madeleine Higgins, Grade 7
• Poetry
• 2005

Girl. Teenaged Girl crossing the street. Boy. Teenaged Boy following the girl. Man. Old Man watching the world go by. Woman. Woman in an alley with a pistil in her hand.
The Girl sees only the footpath in front of her.
She dose not see the Boy following her. Or the Man on his chair. Or the Woman in the alley. Nor does she see that she is beautiful. She dose not see her perfect figure; Or her long blond hair; Or her blue eyes and cream skin. All she sees is the fat and ugly girl she was a year ago. No matter how thin she is she always wants to be thinner. She is so devoted to making herself look like she wants to look that she has lost touch with reality. The girl sees nothing.
The Boy follows the girl because she is beautiful. He worships the ground she walks on because she is everything he is not. She is pretty, while he is plain. She walks like she has a right to be there. He walks in the shadows hoping not to be seen. Except by this Girl; He wants her to see him. He wants her to love him, because He loves her. But the girl sees right through him. She doesn’t know that she is everything to him. The Boy has no friends. He cannot talk to his family because they don’t listen to him. He stays up all night listening to his parents yelling. He has seen his father strike his mother; His father does not know that he saw. The Boy has eyes only for the girl.
The old Man stares at the two teenagers. They both have their whole lives in front of them, and yet they are both sad.
He sees things now. Like the birds singing in the trees; and the clouds moving in the sky; and the bugs flying around in the sunshine. You notice these things when you know you are dieing. It has been forty-eight hours now since he was diagnosed with lung cancer. An incurable case of lung cancer. The Man chuckles to himself. Everyone always told him to quit smoking. That seams funny to him now. They were right. The man looks only to where there is light. He doesn’t see the Woman in the shadows.
The Woman holds her pistil tight in her hand. The mettle is warm now against her sweaty palms. Her breathing is heavy. She is scared; And yet, she wants to do this. Her breath stinks of liquor. Her cheek is sore from wear her husband hit her. She has a black eye under her sunglasses. The pistil is the only thing she brought for herself since she was married. Her husband controls the money. He abuses her and treats her like a slave. She hates him for his drugs and his fists and his dirty mouth. But now she will show him. The depression and the rage and the alcohol fuel a wild desire to do as much damage to as many people as she can.
The Woman steps out into the main street.
Five minutes later when the police arrive, the street is void of life.
Girl, Boy, Man, Woman, all lie where they fell.
There life is over, but in a way, it never began.