Let's do it for the Kids

Let's do it for the Kids

Will I remember
how I've been treated?
bashed?
and defeated?
Will I remember
the people?
the places?
and the distinct faces?
Will I remember
the moments of joy?
anxiety?
pride?


Will I remember?
And place in myself
these things and not forget?
And keep them always
and remember how I felt?
feel?
and empathize?
and have been destroyed?


How can I know?
I want to know
that I will
I feel it's my responsibility now
to remember
and to put into action-
and into motive
to speak with the knowing
so that others do not feel treated the way I've been treated
and for them to know-
for them not to know,
since I remember
and I can stop myself from becoming an aggressor
so they do not have to put into boxes and shelves
the feelings I feel now.

Let us remember
Let us not forget
Let us take in our lessons
Let us use our lessons
Let us use and use and use
so others may not have to
so others can learn through us
better us
evolve us
and surpass us
and take up us when we are old.

Because I remember,
do you?
do they?
They will
and be grateful
you did too.

-Matthew Koutzun

Things that Never Die

Things that Never Die

"Honey? Hun," waiting patiently for a response, "Honey?"

No response, just eyes on the road.

"Pull over," she demands

"I'm not pulling over," he says, finally breaking the silence.

"Just pull over."

"I am not pulling over."

"Pull over right now."

He looks out the window to his left, rolling his eyes, catching her reflection catching his. He pulls over- hazard lights blinking.

They sit in silence as she pulls down the clothed sun visor and flips up the mirror, light blinding her face. He watches her as she pulls out a tube of lipstick and carefully applies it to her lips.

"Parties over, put it away." He looks away again, how many times do you put on a face?

"I asked you a question back at the last turn and I expect a response," capping the lipstick and dropping it into her purse. The clasp clicking, he looks at the purse and then at her in non-response.

"I asked you a question," she repeats.

"I know you did."

"So?"

He looks out the window again.

"Stop looking out the fucking window, and answer the god damn question: what the hell do you see in her?"

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, "you're gonna wake Susan up." He checks the rear view mirror to see the kid's asleep.

"I don't care," speaking softer, " what do you see in her?"

Silence, so she starts again, "I don't know when I started to notice, but today it all started to click. The way you watch her."

He had watched her.

"The way you sometimes throw her name out in conversation."

He had mentioned her.

"So why can't you answer my question?"

"Because it's not a question you want answered."

"You pressured us all into going tonight, so the least I deserve is an answer. I look at you gawking at her just like everyone else and it makes me sick. I look around and see them all smiling forward at a little sweetheart and how do you think that makes me feel? You- looking at her like that?"

"Do you really want me to answer?"

She looks into the mirror and wipes the lipstick off her teeth.

"How long has that been there?"

"Do you really want me to answer?"

"I don't know, whatever... it's pointless now."

"Fuck, I can't take this. I'm sorry Edith I gave her my attention tonight, she's just the star of the show for fucks sake and a friend of mine, so I thought we'd show her a little bit of support. And Jesus, you always have to make these things about you."

"All I asked is do you think I could do that? Do you think if I had continued singing I could be up there? That I could be on that god damn stage."

"What do you want me to say Edith? That yes you could be a star? That yes if you'd have worked harder you could of made it? I'm not going to play these games."

Her reddening face looks out the window before she slowly, with care, pulls out each word, "I sit out there, and I see the lights- the colour, and the sound -the music, and I see the audience -when I look back, and I start to... -inside I wonder why I'm not up there, why I've wasted half my life, and where and what I've done. Where did it go Jerry?"

"I don't know Edith. Ask your daughter in the back seat."

She looks out the window again.

"Just drive me home."

He pulls the shift back into drive as he makes his way down the road again, high beams on. She leans back into the seat, resting her head against the glass , thinking to herself, an audience clapping in the background.

" I could have been. I just could have been."

-Matthew Koutzun


Wow, it's been some time since I've written a short story, so I hope you enjoy.