In His Eyes, in Their Eyes

-a very short story-

 

He’s standing in the corner of the wagon train,

Holding a cheap mp3 player,
.. maybe listening some of his favourite music :
Kangen Band, Armada Band, or Cakra Khan.

He looks younger than me,

Not taller than me,
Wears skinny jeans
and blue uniform
with the name of the outsource company
on the pocket.

He’s holding a broom in his hand,

..and through his glazed eyes,
I see a dead future,
a dream annihilation.

--

He sweeps the train with his big broom,
reach the passanger’s foot :
from one wagon to another.
He hopes he can gain
the twenty thousand rupiahs that day.

He’s thirsty,

but he can’t afford a bottle of the damn mineral water :
costs two thousand and five hundred rupiahs.
..at the end,
he can only swallowed his saliva
and he promises to himself
that he can bring some water in a bottle,
tomorrow.

--

He’s not alone.
There are two young workers like him
in this wagon :
they are talking to each other
while the train have a transit
in every station.
 
They are smile,
laughing together,
and trade their playlist on
the cheap mp3 players,
but there are nothing in their eyes..

They are teens,

They must have a future,
Not with that pain broom,
..and not a que sera sera.

--

The railway seems have an end,
But not his future,
their future.

 

(Fildzah Izzati)