There are days when I feel like a folded-up accordion. The skin on my neck over laps the skin on my chest. My knees have little flaps of loose skin and my underarms look like water doodles. Ah, don’t worry if you wanta laugh, I really don’t mind. I can remember decades ago, when I was l teased for quite the opposite. It’s a little sad now, that most of those people that teased me are now alcoholics, drug attacks, perpetual losers, or worse yet dead.
I know, I know I shouldn’t think that way. But when I see these people on the interwebs, they’re all bitter, mad, or in an obituary. I guess I should be one of those sad statistics, flat broke in a one red light town, just 130 miles from where I began. Without a permanent home, no deed, no title, just an 18 year old pick up truck and a pretty steady lawn chair.
But I got friends, people that will check on me if they don’t hear anything. I got kids that stay on my ass and argue back at me like I taught them too. I got a following, it’s no more than a handful, but isn’t more than a handful just too much? Through all my wondrous imperfections, it’s nice to know that I’m still breathing. That I still got most of my wits about me. And rather I admit it or not, I am still capable of love.