of the one banana. Repeating what the grownup had said. Perfect mimicry although the child didn't know English. Each person had a copy of the U.S. Constitution to ponder. Little hands tried to re-assemble the banana in the now limp banana peel. But the fruit was gone. Trying to imagine the banana back in its peel didn't make it really there.
"So maybe it's like, uh, like..." The lifelong fisherman pretended he couldn't think of anything so the ladies would think of stuff. No one wanted to or knew how even to just talk about it. "You make a beautiful poem," another man spoke in English, each little word like a little box with a bunch of stuff in it. A woman re-capped a thermos of tea. Wiped the tiny forks and sugar cube tongs. Folded a cloth napkin. And put the items back into the backpack basket. Then she sat. Young body, weary countenance.
"Like the little fishing boat caught in the flotilla." She said almost sternly or with a gravity of understanding situation. "We can use these! No?!" A man held up a Constitution.
"No one knows what's going on," a young teenage boy said of the busy port. "Of course they don't," the father said heartily. "Or maybe they do," the son said. "And they just don't tell us?" The mother asked. "Maybe everybody just knows what to do for themselves," the father said as he reached into a pocket for his wallet. "What if they forget?"
"What to do?"
"They default."
"To what?"
"To just breathing and I don't know," the father looked around at everything larger than little humans, "Just be amazed."
"Not much luck," a batchelor emptied a breast pocket of crumpled receipts and an un-neatly folded map. The stewardess ticked off flavor of soda on a small sheet of choice.
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