metal stench of love

alarm.
stop. get up.
clothes off, clothes on.
coat, shoes, scarf, bag,
step step step, open door, get out.

wait at the station,
world still fuzzy all around.
first coffee didn’t kick in yet.
train arrives on time.

sit opposite a large metal-type of dude.
black t-shirt, black pants, chains, the works.
blindly find the bookmark,
try to focus on reading “Dodger”.

my attempt fails after a few lines and I check out the metalhead instead.

his stereotypically black t-shirt contains his aspirations for the afterlife:
“Fuck Hell I will go to Valhalla”, is written on it,
in stereotypically gothic-type letters.
his stereotypically long hair have the shine of a hair-dye ad.
I try to get back to reading the book.

the story presents us with a small detail about a dog named Onan.
a dog old and silly, constantly bearing a foul smell.
when its previous owner, Solomon, was trying to escape Nazi Germany,
some guards attacked him.
Onan immediately fought back to protect the person he loved,
and didn't stop growling and fighting and biting,
even though the hits he took on the head hurt so much
and probably made him the silly weak dog he's become.

I look up towards the man opposite me, not able to contain my tears.
he glances back at me for half a second,
with non-stereotypically strong empathy,
a mixture of surprise and sadness born from my sadness.
then he quickly looks away, for it should never be revealed,
that he has feelings too.

well, they say we are what we love.
right this moment I love that giant sensitive metalhead
and that poor old stinky fictional dog.
if this makes me poor and old and giant and sensitive and stinky and fictional,
so be it.

you stay cool and real, let’s see where it takes you.

______

© Dimitrios Kokkinos 2015