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fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the tag “forgotten”

How I Accept the Unacceptable

nano poblano picture 27

When they say that we can

leave it all behind,

we still

take it with us when we go.   

 

And nothing is forgotten

that’s forgiven in my mind, 

until

creation and us with it cease to know.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

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This World of Weights and Measures

the writing on the wall

Words, so easily spoken, are meaningless, dry leaves.  They fall, and then blow away.  They have no weight in them.  They are temporal, crumbling, and so easily forgotten.

So from here until forever more, I will limit my words to written form, and for only those who read them.  For the concrete world, in all its truth, is one of deeds, not words.

Hence, except in veiled reflection, and only for the amusement of strangers, I will spare this world of weights and measures my weightless words, in hope that my failed behavior alone will suffice.

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

Superman

superman-png

“They used to call me Superman”,

he told me, sometime after midnight.

“They still do.”

I told him I could see that, not letting him know I saw his blue tee shirt, with the red ‘S’ on the chest, showing from inside his jacket.

He spoke no more intelligible sentences. He only looked at me, his eyes into my eyes, with an expression that made me think of Dave Chappelle, if Dave Chappelle was crazy.

Yeah, take that for what it’s worth.

And then, he put out his hand. Not to ask for money, but to ask for my hand in return. One man to another, like in the old days. Then he said,

“I’m an addict.”

I did not look away. Not to the security guard off to the side of me, too far away to have done anything, if anything needed doing. Not to the hospital in front of me, and the ER he was visiting. And not to God, who at that moment seemed to leave me to make up my own mind about what to do with the drug-addled superhero standing in front of me.

So, with my eyes never leaving his, I shook his hand, in the way men shook hands in the old days of superheroes in America. Strong. Resolute. With the understanding of what we were to everyone else in that moment.

Forgotten.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

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