Monday, July 13, 2009
In a state where the people sport faces painted with a dark hue of having no hope; they want success, but hate how it looks. I stare with sympathetic tears, but too numb to cry because I'm used to seeing this kind of pain for more than all of my life now ....The fortunate, too rude to really be concerned, put on bogus benefits just to play the part of angels; but those ain't wings, just feathers, and they're flightless, too chicken to really have heart. Too many actors with bad character. Where are the directors? The Leaders not afraid to lead and The surgeons willing to save lives for the meaningful price of free?
Standing in this spiraling line for hours now, which really feels like a turtle's life; I should have a library of words ready to be scrolled, but what you see above is all I've been able to write. Maybe because most of my time has been spent observing a happy little girl, much too big for her stroller, playing with a Dorito bag, like it was American Girl's latest and greatest doll. As her mother muscles to push the stroller with one hand and bounce an uneasy sibling with the other, I can't help but marvel at the joy in this miniature person's face, while she plays with nature's toxic friend and drags her little-big-feet across the fake marble tile, like Flinstone feet. At that moment she taught me, all thirty something of me. Why complain? Just find the joy in the simple things because it's the cushion for making the ride a lot less bumpy.