I can never remember, or realize, why I find myself in situations such as these; watching people in buildings where I shouldn’t spend so much of my time.
People whose hair matches their skin matches their eyes that matches their clothes,
With freckles and one just a little bigger than the others underneath their eye, and cursive tattoos of flowers on the shoulder, just visiting.
One chef comes through the scene collecting ingredients for tonight’s dinner – first time meeting the new parents.
My past is asleep
Time moves oddly, and slowly….
Glasses go by biting into jelly-filled donut, large.
I hardly find justification for my beliefs or self-assurance, or what in particular it is that I take offense to —
So how can I feel anyone else is justified in their own narrow-mindedness and habitual tendencies?
Life is bought with Bleach ad things are fine.
They slide the Nickel-ads off the stack, dozing off before reaching he door befuddled by drunk from last night, the night before.
My Papa doesn’t recognize me today. I share his name, they used to all me his boy.
Old ladies grab condolence cards and hurry away, they can’t steal, an kids crowd the doorway in an unbroken stream.