I Knew That It Wouldn’t

We Sat There, Not Talking, For A Few Minutes. He Ate The Moon Pie; Only Skinny People Can Scarf Down Junk Food Like That. Finally, I Said, "norman?" "yeah?" "are You Ever Going To Show Me The Painting?" "man," He Said. "you Are, Like, So Impatient." "i Am Not," I Said. "i've Been Waiting Forever." "okay, Okay." He Stood Up And Went Over To The Corner, Picking Up The Painting And Bringing It Over To Rest Against The Bright Pink Belly Of One Of The Mannequins. Then, He Handed Me A Bandana. "tie That On.

It Was Kind Of Soothing, These Sounds Of Lives Being Lived All Around Me, For Better Or For Worse. And There I Was, In The Middle Of Them All, Newly Reborn And Still Waiting For Mine To Begin.

I've Found In My Own Life That If My Writing Isn't Going Well, Not Much Else Will. It Is The One Constant, The Key To Everything Else.

Harder To Get In Than Out, Like So Little Else.

I Was Tired Of Hanging On, Taking The Torn Pieces To Make Something Whole With Them.