it's beginning to grow on me

first day of my life

Lately I've been really interested in people. Since I can't talk to strangers, I'm settling for writing about them.

It's been a dull day. Around 2 o'clock a woman didn't tip him and he felt like banging his head against the steering wheel. But he didn't. Maybe she just forgot. Or didn't have anything but tens and twenties in her beaded coin purse.

Still, he hated her right then.

Tomorrow, he'll do it all over.

But for now, he's satisfied from a warm meal, calm from drinking his favorite tea. Now, he'll smoke a cigar and play backgammon on the patio outside his most frequented restaurant, only pausing to look up every so often at the moon, waning crescent.

It, like him, says little.

It, unlike him, has no mustache.

the piece that fits

"we don't talk too loud,

just mutter to ourselves

to distance the crowd

and i'm thankful.

we don't act too cool,

just bathroom humor and middle-school,

and i'm grateful."

comforting to see your parents twenty years ago and know they haven't changed.