Nestled away in the corner of nowhere there was a small suburban town, almost untouched from its original construction in the post war boom. The residents were mostly older – probably they had grown up there as well.
Lawns were well manicured.
Neighbors said hello.
All was well.
But there was one older man who walked by sometimes. With a pudgy loud little dog and two rambunctious children. The dog had a human’s name – and it looked like it fit him. But the children had names a child might name a pet. Like Summer, or River, or Sky. It doesn’t matter what the names were. And the man was far too old to be their father. There was no mother, or father walking with the small children.
I wondered what happened to them. Maybe the mother chose the names as a wish for something better than what she had found for herself.
There were devils eating at the corners of paradise.
And loss in an old man’s eyes.
Laughs and Lobotomies 