Saturday, January 23, 2016


If you have to shingle the walkway I'm 
never passing by. I like it just the way it 
is. Everything that glitters, in this case, 
being gold, amazes my constitution. And
I'm so in love with Life I can't seem to
let it go. Even the people on the train, all
their noise and happenstance, all those
bungling fools, they sometimes lead me 
back to think of pride and dignity. Like a
cat, announcing awareness, through the
licking of its fur : 'I am here, and this is
all me. I accept!' There's a guy, over there,
jumped in at the Elizabeth stop, with a
tattoo'd field all over his face that only 
stops at his eyes. Don't know why, no,
never, but you see that stuff more and 
more. Maybe it's good, I don't know. 
He's as proud of his canvas face as he is
of his 'hood. I've come from nowhere, and
probably headed back to another land, so I
make no pretense to know, nor to understand.

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