He was staring at me in that way that has a tendency to make one feel uncomfortable.

The streetcar was crowded in the way that 2 o’clock in the afternoon is, and there was nothing between us but the empty Isle.

“You have a problem, friend?” I asked quietly.

“I’m not your friend.” He snapped and stood pointing his finger at me… He was bigger than I figured. 6’2″, 200 pounds. “You want me to kick your ass?”

“Be careful what you wish for.” I answered and continued. ” I jump over guys like you to get to a fight.”

And that’s when the trouble began.

I was dining on sweet oranges.

Spread butter on a bun.

I brewed a pot of red rose tea.

And watched the rising sun.

I hardly leave the house now.

The news? Don’t want to know.

Not expecting company.

That sun sure has a glow.

The summer days are cooling.

There’s a silence calm and sweet.

I’ve been listening to old Dylan.

Feel a shuffling in my feet.

I’ve grown tired and silent amidst all this language of defining with, what a woman is and ciswoman and keeping up with the genders. Do we really have this much time on our hands? I am weary of bitcoin and investments making money while you sleep because of the luxury this creates, and in all this talk about money, I’ve grown silent… I hear rumors and rumors of war, and in the silence, I think, ah…

The neighbor took to drinking.

And then fell into a rut.

Following the appearances of deep thinking.

Then, got all bloated around the gut.

There were moments of rage and ranting.

Followed by hours of hot debates.

And in the sparkling twilight hours.

Where so many mapped their fates.

He went out without a whimper.

I swear he didn’t make a sound.

And fell into the ether where…

So many before have drowned.

I’ve been listening to the masses.

They be trying to bring me down.

I’ve been taking master classes.

Ever since the blues dropped into town.

They are talking about oppression.

Like, it’s shiny and brand new.

So much horror in that lesson.

That ironic cake to chew.

They are raging, eyes are blurry.

Tears they fall like April rain.

Going nowhere in such a hurry.

Like they just discovered pain.

I’ve been looking for a chorus. That won’t break us into songs. Maybe something just to bore us. Take our rights back from the wrongs…

The humidity left at midnight.

A hot steaming swampy mess.

When the heat is coming back?

Don’t know; it’s anyone’s guess.

The weatherman is on vacation.

With the journalists on the coast.

Who went extinct or just retired.

Do we need them? Seems the most.

Around here, we have these theories.

That sounds like bitchin and complain.

We are on strike down at the mill.

And there’s no going back again.

I’ve been writing, not much painting.

The paints supply it just got sold.

We are watching reruns on Netflix.

Not getting high, just feeling old.

I remembered everything dramatic until I didn’t. I let that shit go, which is a monumental gift.

However, I  remember certain individuals from my childhood who, at the time, I thought were unreasonably cruel. Now I realize they were just human. Nothing more or less. So, to those people that I criticized on the eastcoast!,

“All Apologies!”

I was shunning the excitement.

Fell in love with being bored.

All the reading and enlightenment.

Fell to faith and was restored.

There’s a moment in the ether.

Like a clock forever broke.

You just relax and take a breather.

And watch the past go up smoke.

I am taking in the stage play.

From this perch of breezy cool.

There’s a maiden and a horse Thief.

With few Kingdom’s left to rule.

I recognized my nature.

Not much was steeped in good.

There was this strange sensation.

Like maybe I just should.

Forget it all and start a new.

Take the narrow view to wide.

Take my head out from my ass.

And maybe look outside.

Not all is gain or glory.

Not all is pain and strife.

The road the path the choices made.

It’s a wild ride this life.

I was flawed by work and anger.

I was trapped in tight turmoil.

Enough to create madness.

And bring blood to a boil.

Such sinister thoughts and dramas.

All swimming in this head.

Not fit for sentence structures.

For the living or the dead.

All charred and burnt in payback.

All gummy dank and dark.

Sucking up to spirits good.

To find a hopeful, peaceful spark.