Portrait V

Illuminating geometric wonder with angles, the Kindle Paperwhite beams cyrillic characters in relief. A lumpen man in a lumpen coat scans with haste and laze, doing everything in his power to keep his eyes off his train fellows. He is coming from Brighton Beach. The depths of south Brooklyn. There is something rotten growing under many layers of skin on his cheek on his face. It is a lump. He has not gone to the doctor to determine whether or not it is malignant. This man would like to send his son to college. This man cares very deeply about his credit score in the way that people born poor do. He drinks to feel metallic buzzing in the mornings. He drinks to kill his tastebuds. He is so hungry; always hungry. He is ashamed of his hunger because he already feels fat. He tries to hold in a fart that his stomach is producing from the digestion of his high fiber breakfast that his wife bought to try to guide him dietwise. He has been trying to spend more time with his family recently. This has annoyed them, especially his son. They think enough is enough. They eat dinner together usually, except on weekends when the son has to go out and his wife is learning Salsa through lessons at a local gymnasium. He has not told them why he wants to spend more time. He has not told them that he is going deaf.