© 2018  Kelsey Cronin

    Sundays in Bedford

    May 8, 2018

    A great acrylic sea stretches across the wall—Cobalt blue.

    It almost looks real if you squint your eyes 'til they’re nearly shut

    and conjure up the sound of briny waves slapping little sailboats.

    It’s the same color as the ball that goes back and forth—Cobalt blue.

     

    Play catch. Stop. Would you like a cup of water? Play catch. Stop. Would you like a cup of water? Play catch. Stop. Would you like a cup of water? Play catch. Stop.Would you like a cup of water?

     

    Through the thick haze of sedation, fragments of 80 years of life  trickle out in mumbled song and playful glances. Out of place in these fluorescent halls, familiar in this space between father and son.

     

     

     

     

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