Today, 6/27/06

In the office:

You said, "How's the truck coming?" and I didn't even know you remembered that I had bought one. Heck, I don't even know your last name, but you remembered. You asked, you wanted to know about me on this horrible, sinking Tuesday. Thank you.

At the bar:

You said, "I want to know how to write better, because it is so easy for you." I said, no sweat, I'd help. We drank another and walked to the Marta stop and the line divided us with two electric rails, going in both directions at once like a never-ending journey of arrival and departure.

On the train:

I said that the art was fantastic and he said "thanks..." and I talked about it all the way to my station. He asked me if I drew and I said I wrote and he said, "oh, graffiti tags" and I said "yeah, and prose" and he looked confused. I shook his hand and left the train.

On the bus:

The noise from the back grew in volume as the driver passed the bus stop. "That's my stop! Are you drunk?" screamed the annoyed rider. He got off about 40 feet past his stop and mumbled curses. The driver slammed the accelerator pedal down and we lurched forward and I grinned because I knew we'd get home quick today.

In my room:

Don't give up hope, don't curl like a bug and die on your back. Don't dismiss life or breathe slowly enough to pass on to dispersal. I will move forward, I said, as I checked the sites for mistakes and didn't call or answer the phone.

Outside while smoking:

I grabbed the leftover oversized sidewalk chalk from when the kids were a part of my life, left on my porch to remind me of them every day or night, and I dropped to the pavement. I just tagged the word "grow" and colored it. I highlighted it. I sweated and swatted. I got my hands dirty. I smiled. I smiled. I smiled all to myself.