Everyone’s dead. Well, not everyone – besides that girl, whom is also wearing her Sunday thinking shades, 16 oz. & a text of some sort to get her out with the people – a thriving interest of the ones who are awake (not dead). Maybe I should go say hi & let her know that she’s not alone. I’m curious if the green highlighter you’re using is part of some coursework of academic study in a ‘higher’ more controlling & debt ensuing institution, or maybe you’re past those studies & the green highlighter is your chosen creative weapon of choice – mine is the Dixon Ticonderoga, expressed on recycled card stock, not to thick though. Reminder to call my mom & have her send me a new one from Marshall’s – don’t forget the 1/2 off coupon! Maybe I should have her send two. I should probably write more, I think I’m good at it? And I don’t think I’m coming back home soon. Mmm…& now you walk away, smile to a hitchhiking, backpack wearing couple – confirming your status of spirit as ‘awake’ & certainly theirs as well – a smile giving, tie dye wearing, #everythinginonebag living couple. You two. Welcome, or perhaps its you who welcomes me – fuck it – a light(s) meets another light, what a beautiful interaction. Why can’t it happen more?
If individuals could only realize that they are their own bright lights – beholding the utmost potential to glow auras around their bodies.
And you, shiny-haired blonde with her family…I saw you, maybe you can feel me at this point. Turn around…”Hey there’s stores over here!” right on cue, she turns around and we stare. Meanwhile, off to the side rail we have “when I’m not out smoking pot, so watch out, I’m not into that passive aggressive shit, so fuck you!” She’s not my type of person.” WTF does that mean? Is it actually that easy to spot a French person? I guess we can’t fault people for being raw as fuck, for actually being themselves, even if who they are may kinda suck…because it might be the only way for them to get a glimpse of who they are, if they choose to listen. But how is one ever going to know who they are if they are constantly distracted with these damn shiny phones. But they’re there for you to see your shiny self. Distinguishing between 17 & 27 can be difficult sometimes. Maybe the blonde with her family will come back if I send her a message, or perhaps the girl with the green highlighter – she made me feel less alone. Now you my dear, kind of look like my sister, if I had one – same black frames too. Hmm…slightly different shape of rim trim now that you’re closer, but nonetheless, you have contacts as well & I am certain you chose to wear your glasses this morning. Off to the side bar, round 2…pretty hair, leave enough gap for my aura, turn your back to me, & pat his leg as you try to ignore the kind & gentle presence sitting next to you. Sure enough you will open up, & gain some curiosity as to who I am and what I’m doing. Yup, thanks for looking over. I was hoping to say hi to both of you when you sat for a good morning bench share. Yup, def. my little sister. But seriously, our heat/energy is co-mingling at this very moment, & you have no idea that I’ve been mooching off of my EBT-earned beans & those lime flavored Tostitos chips that my mom left & could do work at any moment. Don’t worry, the beans are organic. Well, I guess the phone distracts you from our ass vibrations doing the dance. That bird totally made eye contact with me. My hand hurt, but now it doesn’t any more. Lets take a moment to acknowledge how kickass my name looks on this coffee cup. I bet the cups & the marker were designed to combo as such & look that damn good. Lady, not all birds are looking for girlfriends, & neither are all guys. Some of us like guys, & some of us like both, & some of us simply want to be friends with everyone. Boys, if I didn’t have my glasses on, I’d be tossing a little footy with you.
Today I shall play in my mind, or maybe I’ll just play with it. As the surfboards head east/south for some swell, I shall stay local…to me, and until my coffee is gone, watch people hold their phones in their hands, without them seeing me. 8/6