The story as told

      So you pick up your life
         and you shake it
          and
      carefully, set it back
         down.
      You're wondering now,
        " did you break it? "
      You don't remember it
        making that sound.
      So you throw up your hands
        and get quiet. because
      that's what you do for dimension.
      Or you shake it again,
         somewhat harder, thinking
     maybe that'll get it's attention.
    Or you pick out a line
       from a movie
      and cleverly pass it around.
    But you're wondering now,
      " did you fake it? "
    You don't remember real life
       making that sound.
    So you blow up your plans
       to start over, because
     the glue and the clamps cannot hold.
     All that's left are
      the pieces and
     they're everywhere...though that's
     not
     the story.

     The story as told.
   
   
     

f*ck fantasy football

I like football.
I watch football.
I read football-related
 articles in the Sun-Times.
But i don't give a damn about
 fantasy football.
It's stupid.
F*ck fantasy football.
F*ck fantasy anything..... well,

     almost anything.
 

Waiting for an explanation from God

   Waiting for an explanation from God is
       not like waiting
       for a bus.
   It's not like waiting for the
       phone to ring.
   It's more like having a mouthful of dust
       on a hot summer day
        in Selma, Alabama.
   Waiting for an explanation from God is
    like
    writing f*cked-up poetry
    to yourself.
    at 2 a.m.
    in
    your
    underwear.


    Yep, that's what waiting for an explanation
     from God
        is like.

The Length of Regret

     The difference between a
            bad decision,
            a poor decision
            and a foolish decision.

Esmeralda Laughing

Her sudden
easy
laughter surprised me...like it had
spilled from a jar.
The kind of laugh that
breaks your heart.
Breaks your goddam heart.
Reminds you of someone that you thought you'd
 forgotten.
The kind of laugh.that
 you don't
 laugh along with.
The fact is
 you don't laugh at all.


it's HER laugh.

It's the kind of laugh that suggests  " everything should
                 be held closer. "

Mabel and Poor Henry

                             Mabel's got ants in
                                    her pants
                           Poor Henry's got 'em
                                   in his head
                   That girl is always squirming.
                                  Poor Henry.

                   He can't concentrate in her bed.

heartbeating

                      it seems like the
                      broken heart
                       never really heals....yeah, it can be
                       resuscitated,
                       re-surfaced,
                       renovated,
                       re-habilitated,
                       possibly re-located
                       and even..... re-claimed, but
                         " is it ever the same ? "
                        no,
                        i think not.

                                 kudo's to those
                            who can keep the beat