Clumped 1n two

CJ Sommerfeld
Staff Writer

 

  

Illustration by CJ Sommerfeld

The air bites your knees
like it did a few months back
and the spiders with stripes on their legs are migrating back indoors

and when you stand in the shade
another season collides with your skin
like it did a few months back

like when we had that secret barbeque

and the neighbor yelled Happy Birthday from their porch

their identity hidden behind the towering alder

and the other accepted a piece of cheesecake that had begun melting in the sun

ona plate which they passed over the fence

and virus season is coming again
and we've been told who to argue with again
and we've been clumped in two

and we look in the direction of their pointing fingers
their pointing fingers

to look over there

there, look over there

and we've been told who to argue with
and we're absorbed
and the air bites my knees and another season collides with my skin

and their fingers are pointing past my cold skin
and I look and weve arguing,

look over there

and we're clumped in two

The Horror on the Skytrain

» Panic as I Feel it Coming

Matthew Fraser
Editor-in-Chief

 

could feel it creeping up on me. It wasn't supposed to happen like this at all.

Suddenly, my mask felt tight, and my eyes began to bulge. If] had been talking, I
would have stuttered, had I been walking I would have stumbled, but sitting here on
the Skytrain, all I could do was shake.

I didn’t know if it was safe. Suddenly it felt crowded, like half of Vancouver was
pressing in.

Would they judge me? They would, wouldn't they. Afterall THAT’s a terrible
thing. It’s like announcing to the world that you're a disease-ridden mongrel fit for
exclusions and banishment. Worse still, they might think I’m one of those crazies
who calls everyone else a sheeple. How do tell them I’m really a good guy?

I wasn't ready to be judged. | wasn’t sure | wanted to feel those eyes and bare that
scrutiny. I imagined the old arthritic lady beside me jumping up in shock and horror
before scurrying off at the next stop. A young mother would snatch up her child as all
of natures hardwired motherly instincts kicked in at once. Some meathead jock or
other such bozo would puff out his chest and stand between me and some cute girl,
asserting his dominance and good health.

I'd probably be ashamed too; given my skinny frame, narrow chest and hollow
cheeks who wouldn't be? Maybe if I act tough, I'll feel tough, and this feeling will go
away. Even if its never worked before, it should work this time, right?

I felt that feeling creep a little higher in my chest. Prodding my esophagus with
a touch more gusto, grinning mischievously at my windpipe, leering at the outside
world from somewhere near my collarbone. It thought it was winning.

In fact, it knew it was winning.

My breath hitched once. It was a fight now. If my face doesn’t betray me and I
don’t turn red, I'll consider this a success. Maybe I can stumble off before Metrotown,

eyes watering and face a strange color with as few eyes to witness my inevitable loss.

Who would have thought that a cough could bring such trouble?

I could just picture me, spewing germs like some biological warfare geyser,
much to the chagrin of my loving family. Mouth agape (luckily covered by the mask),
eyes watering (I think the cough got bigger while I was trying to hold it down), stupid
look on my face (luckily obscured by the mask).

I had to make my escape; time was running out and I was about to lose this
battle. The cough was not satisfied with tickling anymore, it had begun to kick.
Would make it out the gate in time? Would succeed in ripping the mask of my face
or would I be stuck with that weird, warm mist coating the inside of my face mask
again? I was about to find out.