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January 31, 2007

Jim: Saigon

Almond eyes, like pools of night reflecting her desperation, set on a delicate, porcelain face framed by straight, indigo-sheened, onyx hair.

I see her tiny form pushing against the back of a crowd that mindlessly repels her efforts. Even though I cannot hear her amidst the din, I know she is yelling my name.

As giant rotors increase their tempo, I’m pushed to the back of the cabin and held in place by bodies and the joint stinks of fear and sweat.

We take off, leaving the rooftop behind.

I still see her eyes.

God! Please help me to forget!

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Comments

Very good! I so got a visual of the scene, good job.

Posted by: kasac at January 31, 2007 1:47 PM · Permalink