black chevrolet

the child staggers
the sword is heavy
he cannot wield it
the point drags across the ground
the child begs for help to sharpen it
laughter echoes around him
he lifts the sword before him
despair lightens the sword
and further dulls the edge

(someone was whistling Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
very loudly and flatly as she pushed a broom. I wanted to strangle her)