slow morning crawl coffee and stare far away look minutes become breath at a time metronome sets to forward go the way of you hurt begets pain pain begets scars scars become hard yield not to wrath a goal for now
When I got to work this morning I really, really had to pee. While running down the hall with my legs crossed, I saw someone I know who has been recovering from stage 4 cancer. So I waved to him. He waved back.
As I continued to side-shuffle down the hall something occurred to me, and it stopped me dead in my tracks.
This guy had been dying of stage 4 cancer and all he had ever asked of people was to make him laugh. And a few months later, here he was back at work! Something had helped him get back here.
So I turned around, then walked back just so I could call him a derogatory name. He laughed hard, nodded and called me a douchebag. Much better.
As I sped off again toward the big boy potty, I looked back and could see the crinkle in his eyes shining above his mask as he stumped his way down the hall on a cane.
Imagine a world where people are willing to make themselves temporarily uncomfortable solely for benefit of another person’s well being.
the cats in the cradle and life it goes on sideswipes and abandonment friendship can be, and not for the sacristy’s plundered and our nickname’s defiled now strut and stroke minds as ego hardens to mask a horrified crossroads the pull of The Singularity
spontaneous laugh of a child thunder roar in brass bell peal echo in the heart of memory forming generational silk to the spider’s web of a life silent in its connection to fast forward frames and peel back of the how we are and why we do again the wave rising up in “I am” sinking back into the ocean of us
pestilence and politics pandemic and plague with a half million down and society to go they block the shot and fake them out they talk a lot no truth to shout that forever reign a wish to steal pass by the doorman death on your heals deciding factors tied how much you got? kneel on the neck democracy’s not a basket of goodies tied in a bag representing in hoodies deciding the flag the money flows thick green with white tinge the darker the funds the lighter the skin apartheid still fails but always gets tried any port in a storm promise always to lie