To Give. To Catch

Sound travels behind me. Not in waves. That is too soft. In pebbles. In baskets. They knock me on the back of the head when I stop. The man with no teeth tells me to wipe the hair from my face and I do. He tries to give me seven pence. To help me. I say no. I’m fine. The seven pennies held in his hand jingle like medals. Full of sunshine. It is strange having this guard of misfits watching over me. Speedy Guy keeping crazy neighbour lady off my doorstep. Cashier lady suggesting juice instead. Because it’s hot. Behind the counter man saying haven’t you been here before. I think. I never left. But smile and say have a good day too. I listen for feet at the door. Lay still. In the dark. They are coming. I know. In the kitchen cupboard lays the more certain ways. In the bag at the end of the bed a plan. An act of conjuring. Get back the face. The arm. The people with stunning teeth who used to say I will take you home. Their words come to me. Crossing the door frame. Running from crazy neighbour lady. Standing in line buying the same things that I am running from. And it hits me. In the back of the head. In the back of my heart. In baskets. Pebbles. Not soft. Like waves. Sound catches up with me from behind.