so if you have to keep singing then singing should be fine

something borrowed  this



something blue

Twins by Alma Haser

something old (written in october)

Paying Attention

I.          I pass by these men so fast. Like I’m on a train letting groups of trees move in the distance as my ride moves forward. These men all with tired eyes, and tired lives look happier than the man to my left in the BMW who’s readily manages to run another red light.

II.         They go in packs. And meet each day unsure of the possibility that they will get to work. And if the bosses quota is already met then they trek back home again in packs and await the next morning for the cycle to begin again.

III.        The women I watch from the passenger side of the car are always walking. One short, One tall. One dark one light. But they share grey hair and gossip as they walk so fast they turn into a blur. Then they go home and garden or knit. Or maybe they are the types to do roller derby and fire hooping. At their age life must not feel like such a routine. Except time still manages to give them a taste of it, every morning down the same path, past the same cars and changing leaves, a quaint reminder that they are still apart of the cycle.

IV.       Then I see a bearded man. I wonder if his hoodie is more protection from the outside world or from what’s going on behind the beard and inside the hoodie. It covers up most of his face and his body but leaves pieces of his identity. Like the way his right foot rests atop his left knee. The look in his eyes that seem vacant yet still curious. The bench he chooses to sit at no matter what the weatherman says.  As day comes and goes he sits at the bench watching the cars stirring and the being moving towards the new day, and he’s sitting there waiting, and adding to his story. And the next day he is back there again sitting on the bench meditation to the whirl of cars and the morning breeze just brisk enough to send a shiver through your body unless you’re armed with a warm hoodie and a long furry beard.

V.        I want to ask them questions. I’d want to overhear the gossip told by the two walking women and the laughter erupting out of the pockets of the worker men. Instead I just leave them be, and continue wondering about all of their stories, but each day is different and I hope that they will find their missing puzzle piece.

never gets old amirite?
casey

++ps++ what the heck de ja vu!!!!