SandScript 2021

WHEN NO ONE’S LOOKING
Salina Molina
Were you the excited dog in the car next to me,
body happily contorted to maximize the wind on your face
as you barked frantically at all the other cars around you
on a highway so far away, you’d never be able to envision it?
For all I know,
You go for car rides down strange highways everyday
and lick yourself when no one’s looking,
but only if your owner’s car has come to a complete stop.
Were you the baby being pushed in the stroller,
skin red and feet excitedly kicking at the morning sun
like you just couldn’t wait to get at life and all it has
in store for you, on a Main avenue that looks like any other?
For all I know,
you’ll grow up to be happy, successful, and well-adjusted,
your baby feet kicking until the day you die
and filling in all the gaps to make your life whole.
Were you the old man in that window today,
staring, bored, from an unhappy building
trim: red but faded like the Golden Gate Bridge
on a corner near a bus stop 2,000 miles away?
For all I know,
you’ve lived there since the late seventies
and only stay because of the carpet in the living room:
it’s brighter than the rest of the apartment
glowing with the memory of your children’s first steps
and the idea of losing that small piece of magic
that life so graciously blessed you with
once upon a time, is absolutely unfathomable to you.
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