thirty

i was hoping to cheat and remember who i am after it was all over. sort of already in mid flight with a target vaguely visible and a hailing from something roundlike. ‘i’ve lost’ isn’t specific so much as it’s a short label for that already flying feeling. eventually a smack, but that wind and whistle and taking in the blur of the scenery best i could before i even realized i was doing it. am i an arrow? the distance closing in? the archer? the mark? where i once would have reveled in pondering possibilities i weave through in a blink like it’s the back of my hand. then i pause and moss grows on why the back of my hand is the back of my hand since i see that side more. rolling with it because examining the other side closely has left me cautious for dinner.

who i am. that’s a riddle like trying to find where the shot came from. admit something. no idea what but it’s like a riddle or puzzle everyone is trying to figure out like a password or secret code only those in the know, know. a river of  i dunnos pushing one way. like time. like the closing gap.

I wanted someone to pull over and say, “hey, can i give you a lift?” and have no idea i was in one of the longest walks of my life. of course it had to be a cute girl. she had seen me walking the same path still on her way back from something she had gone to. because at one time, i wondered why girls didn’t do the asking out. maybe i did too much. and this path was a fluke anyway so i treaded on thinking it’s just today. i wouldn’t know why she picked up a random stranger but an overly kind way of speaking with me would’ve told me she needed something along the lines of kindness. secret sadness and a hitchhiker secretly nerve-wrecked and loud because she was pretty. that’s why they called me funny, kinda. my jokes weren’t the classical type. it was more of a, please cheer up. i was always kind. as long as i’d have wanted the trip i’d say something dull like, hey would you like to do weird stuff with me sometime? like it was an extension of my faith and trust in another. the funny guy is also a fulltime job and chances at romance are slim. the usual, please- i’d overthink a text and the time lapse and wonder if i should do something weird like call them, while factoring in how she’s also going through a sort of thing while i was being smothering because i’m nervous about making the wrong impression as myself. of those attempts, i can count easily.

and like getting workers comp, something changed. i didn’t want to try getting girls anymore because it was so hard to get weird with me. that kinda fulltime job was laughs on the scene, but took much alcohol and drug abuse from being cowardly. and i never once used the word coward in a belittling tone.

i was a legend alright. but for stuff i don’t really remember. i even wore glasses like a prop to show i’ve grown and matured and would like to adult the fuck up. nobody bought it, so this is what happened instead.

i live vicariously through my imagined conversations with women and sometimes i even pretend i’m coming home to one when no one’s around.

i feel it you know. that’s like a straight shot, bulls eye when i’m charging and just like that, i’m a train. i heard once somewhere that we aquarius’ are always a good time with everyone but when we weren’t having it, everybody knew. some times, i felt i wasn’t being a good person if i wasn’t being the funny guy.

 

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About hughmanfarm


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