ruth's black eye shines brighter than any streetlight in the city

By Nicholas Barnes. Published on March 6, 2023.

i.

ruth’s sporting an old-timey kentucky derby hat. her jagged chin rests on the tabletop. a grease stained peacoat with big snowman buttons comforts her.

   the coughing begins, and it sounds spooky. ruth’s got a thousand yard stare. a forlorn bloodshot gaze looks downward, like she’s considering the motion of the tectonic plates.

ii.

last night, ruth was jumped by some crooks. this morning, her head hangs lower than low. even though she carries herself with four-inch platforms.

   but they didn’t take much: she never wears jewelry. ruth doesn’t need all that. she’s her own diamond in the rough.

   she’s no counterfeit, she’s a walking goldmine. none of the prospectors in these parts can see it though. ruth is just plain ore and iron pyrite to them.

iii.

ruth lets out a sigh, leaving her diner booth for a park bench across the boulevard. as she settles in, a red squirrel bolts onto her lap, arms outstretched, offering an acorn. a heartfelt gift.

   she takes the tribute, and says, bless your heart, young man. just when i thought i had nobody left in this world. i suppose ruthie ain’t so lonely after all.

   the moment ruth cracks open the oak fruit, she grows whiskers, two pointy ears, and a ruby tail. without missing a beat, the two of them scurry up a tree together. laughing, smiling, free.

Nicholas Barnes earned a Bachelor of Arts in English at Southern Oregon University. He is currently working as an editor in Portland, and enjoys music, museums, movie theaters, and rain. His least favorite season is summer. His favorite soda is RC Cola.