260 days ago - Mr and Mrs Incredible, and then some,
sit near me, talking their talk. They know us, costumed children:
Two strut like men, draped in urban regalia. One’s head is covered by a woven sea.
A short, fat, male Snow White twirls on the concrete. Multitudes stand nearby.
Yet black thread obscures my skin, and a knockoff emerald rests on my throat.
260 days forward hisses, ashamed, “inept sloth!” She watches my figure lie on the cold stone, but I
don’t care right now. My shoes point at The Incredibles, and my mind’s in a
sacred cat’s land. I bet you’ll never see this in the photos. But they do today.
A mere blink later, I am with them as we dance together, as a deafening bass
pulses through all of our hearts. Do you not feel it? I know they can. Surely, even
260 days later, they'll still recall this night, like I will. The Incredibles, maybe they’ll be working, playing,
getting crushed under the mountain of life, I don’t know. But oh, how we flew tonight!
Soon, two of The Incredibles leave, another joins, a pinch of children leave, and still,
we all embrace and praise under that cross. To those who left and stayed,
I remember how we spun and screamed, “victory” together, two hundred voices singing as one.
260 days ago, the children and the Incredibles dance together. Then,
259 days ago, we departed. The benevolent sun seemed to be just a breath closer, I think
it too could feel us, tried to grasp our fleeting presence, reckon the deaf trees heard our amicable goodbyes
that echoed through the Port. Even last Friday, many days later, the children gathered. And damn,
weren’t we all thinking, “credits to Our Incredibles”.
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