Greasy Tokens

The man sits lounging in his metal carriage. He licks his fingers, obviously enjoying his meal he just had. He probably went to the building I can see from the corner of my eye. The building, brightly lit, has a big bucket on top and a pattern of long endless stripes of red and white and a smiling man looking down on us. Every day, that building sends out enticing smells to my nostrils. But nothing compares to Mum's honest to God Sunday roast after a good hard days work on the farm. Which I'm sure the man who is licking his fingers doesn't know about. And every day, metal carriages come and go, often leaving me a greasy token.

Darkness is creeping in now. At this time, all metal carriages are out, the roads are busy. All the honking coming from the metal carriages blasts my ears, reminding of a cow's moo. I suddenly have this urge to stand up and round these metal carriages that sound like cows. But I can't with my rooted legs. What does a man have to do to get some peace around here?

A couple of hours later, the noise has died and the metal carriages have gone, leaving the odd metal carriage parked here and there. Lying on the street, I see a huddled figure with a thin blanket draping his body. The street light illuminates his dirty face, sunken in eyes with bags which are closed peacefully deep in sleep, his chest rising and falling in a nice even pattern. My son, sitting on my shoulders, also sees the huddled figure. He nudges his foot against my shoulder, it's a simple gesture but I understand the meaning behind it. He wants to know why that man is sleeping on the street and not in a nice comfortable home. And it isn't a question I can answer easily, the gestures we have aren't enough to answer it. My family were put up here to remind people of how hard we worked and if we didn't life wouldn't be as it is today. But now we are exactly like that man on hte street, we do nothing but stand here all day and all night. And the greasy tokens left for us show how much we are thought of. I ignore my son as he continously nudges my shoulder. After a while he gets the idea and the nudges cease. And with that I close my bronze eyes and drift off to sleep.

The same enticing smell wakes me up. I open my eyes to a bright bustling busy world. And out of the corner of my eye I see the same man in his metal carriage, licking his fingers. As he drives away he leaves me with a greasy token. And all I can do is stand there and watch.