my friends would gather round, and we’d do dumb things.
Oh, but I was the dumbest, and the meanest, by far.
I used to call this one guy I found in the phone book.
He had the misfortune of having a name that stuck out, and for living in a part of town that was considered bad.
I’d call him, and make fun of him for his name, and for where he lived, and for the color of his skin.
And, somehow, i thought it made me feel better to make him feel worse.
But, it didn’t make me feel better to make him feel worse.
It just made him feel worse.
And, now, with older eyes, and less dumb days, I’m reminded from time to time of who I was.
It is uncomfortable to hold that person up to the light, and if there is ever a regret in my life, it certainly resides in the immutable past that pushes me toward the hope that the bully of a boy doesn’t reside in the heart of the man that now exists.
Reflecting on that person, I pity that heart, and how scared he was, and how misguided his thinking was.
But, that is a life.
My mistakes are my fingerprints, and my DNA.
Hoping the mutation takes,
And replications endure.
Tomfoolery, for tomfoolery’s sake comes at a cost.
A friend texted that her morning train was delayed due to wet leaves on the tracks.
I’ve heard most if not all the excuses the transit authority uses for poor service, but I agree with my friend: this is a first.
It would seem slippery Leaves would lubricate the movement of wheels on a track, but maybe that is not what is needed.
Still, it seems like a pretty bullshit reason.
Yet, the boxcars full of commuting cattle was delayed indefinitely.
I mean, eventually it moved, but not before thousands of texts, and emails, and false promises were made.
Hell, if I was on that train, I would have been inclined to call in sick.
And just for fun, I’d tell them that I can’t come in because there are wet leaves on my bedroom floor, and in the hall, and in the bathroom, and down the stairs out the door, and all the way to the train.