Larry Doesn't Pray

Those pilots aren't persuading Larry to pray right now.

The wings buckle and hold true, the soothing voice over the speakers calms, and the steward(esses)s bring just the right amount of gin. Larry doesn’t need to pray

now. As the Rockies crumble underneath white spiderweb, and the woman gently kicks the back of Larry’s chair, and the man in the seat next to him sleeps, Larry doesn’t need

to pray now. He flips through the in-flight catalog, looking at electric slippers, and contoured neck pillows, light-up Christmas ornaments, and waterproof shower radios, Larry doesn’t

need to pray now. The world below revolves past him, turning its face away from the sun. The shadow of night is behind them as the sail through the air. Those pilots aren’t

persuading Larry to pray right now. As the ocean finally comes within view, the scrabble board

shore pulling away behind them, Larry puts the catalog down, his hands together and

does not pray. He turns the light off above his seat, the man next to him, velvety breathing and Larry remembers the first time he slept over at a lover’s apartment, and had to learn how

to pray. Now he puts his hands together, lazily thumbing his wrist for his pulse, and counting breaths. One in. Now out. Two in. Now out. A slight pause; a deeper breath in. And Larry

does not pray now. Instead, he turns his head away from the window, towards the man, saltpepper beard, saltpepper mustache, glasses. Old Spice, and tweed. And Larry

does not kiss him, or touch him, or do anything else. Larry closes his eyes, and counts pulses up to sixty, then over again. One one thousand, two one thousand, trying to count seconds.

Larry doesn’t pray now. He waits for the time between seconds, between pulses, between breaths. In between, Larry prays.

Author's Note

This started as a prose poem.... I don't know WHERE to go with it. There's interesting content, maybe, but I'm still wondering where the poem wants to GO

Reviews

[Christian Bonoan]

This has interesting contents! I liked it :)