The Maynard
Spring 2016

Alexandra Atiya

Toy Cars

I’m just remembering something: We were in Oaxaca and you refused to enter the church and I went in alone and above the altar there wasn’t a statue of Jesus, nothing human, but an anatomical heart, a wooden model of a heart with cut-off tubes jutting out of its side. It was painted and thorns cut into it and a woman was going up the aisle on her knees to approach it.

When I came outside it was dusk. I saw you, I saw your back, you were facing the square where all those kids had rented toy cars and the longhaired women were practicing West African dance, and you were just watching the kids in the toy cars circle around the fountain, and I came up to you and put my hand on your shoulder, and you said look at that one, she looks so serious: and you pointed to a girl who was driving a pink barbie jeep and she had bangs, a little straight bob, and she looked like she was driving to work.