thursday night

the night. out on that highway when the rest of the city found themselves asleep. next to lovers and tucked away. he found himself alone, careening towards nowhere. the bumpitybumpbump of the lane markers warning him. giggling with him as he swerved in and out in and out in and out.  the damp air streaming through the open windows making his hair dance disorder and the tip of the cig in his mouth blink amber. headlights pulling him into the darkness.  fearless and carefree.  what was this eerie calm that settled inside him?  nothing really mattered and that was alright. a long drag, but just heat. cigarette butt homicide hitting the concrete. the hissing wheels spinning on, gripping but not holding tight enough. him…never holding tight enough.

wild flower.

struggling with this everyday dilemma that seems to ride my conciousness…for some reason, whether big or small…my past experiences molding me into the man i have become…thus defining me…and then, a few simple words knocked me to the ground…

…that there is beauty in the wild flowers that grow randomly among our wheat.

since when did i allow “this idea” of what is right guide me away from what could truly make me happy?  since when did i allow the unheard thoughts of others define me? since when did their words make me retreat?  what if being in that minority…that 10 percent…no less than that…being even in that 3.5 percent of the world, actually meant that i truly was on the side of unique, different, special…and that i had the potential to offer something to the world much greater than i could have imagined?  to actually see it as a blessing? not a shortcoming.  the knowledge of knowing that i do inherently see things differently.  that it is a must for me to be creative in order for others to understand.  and finding happiness in that.  why for so long have i failed to realize the absolute beauty in that?

fresh breath

dentyne makes me think of her.

even if the outer paper package was missing, i could count on a few stragglers hanging out in the crevices of her worn leather hangbag along with faded pennies, hair ties, and the grit that gets stuck behind fingernails.

it was the “sugar-free” stuff. lost its flavor after 5 minutes of consistent chewing. but made me feel like i was in on a secret that only the sister of a dentist would know.  she knew, and knew well.  and my chewing made her proud, even if just in my little mind. 

yipes strikes had their lure. actually bought a tin once. but a few chews in and it was on the ground…waiting for an unattentive shoe.  big league chew during little league…like one of the guys…but the stuff made me gag.  big red would burn and give me canker sores.

there truly was nothing like her dentyne.  the tiny white packages of yummygoodness.  the joys of neatly unwrapping a piece.

i can still taste it. the uninspiring and unsweetened cinnamon chew.  and how a little boy loves his mother.

rope swing

dizzydumb in the stars. the stickysummer air licking  face.

flying high. looping around. over and over.  spiraling down.

my uncle and laughter all around. sillysmile.

knows exactly when to let go…waiting for that perfect moment…

then just you and a blurred wonderousworld whizzing by.

the highest of highs a little boy could go. the most gutgrabbing forces a little boy could ever feel.

slingshotslung to the moon.

westCHASE-d.

out on the fringes you start to wonder…

out on the fringes you start to wander.

people crawling towards the city as i’m sprinting away.  same road/different directions. me to the west and them to the east.

M-F. 9-5. Sunup to Sunset.  i feel so unlike them.  so strange.  so separate.  have they forgotten what its like to be young? what its like to dream? day in and day out.  what keeps them going? when will i change directions?

out on the fringes you start to wander.

out on the fringes you start to wonder.