today meant work. plans for the Great Reformation of myself. as i walked to the bar, in order to continue my long, unending farewell to whiskey, a man quickly past beside me, announcing, "passing on your left." as he continued up the sidewalk, he approached a large bush to his right. lackadaisically, he extended his right hand and gently brushed the outermost leaves with his fingertips. not thinking twice. just doing what delighted old men do.
in the bar i sat, and ordered a bourbon. it happened that this same man found the stool next to my own. slight in stature, and dressed like a man his age, baseball cap, short-sleeved, button-up orange plaid shirt, khaki's shorts, each one side too big, and sneakers, he sat and said, "you probably hate me..." in a slightly jovial manner.
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you are a lamb. shepherded away.
betrothed to a will.
these days are meant for doing.
for seeing truth and speaking justice.
the world is filled with ravenous wolves.
i am a loyal servant.
a domesticated beast of peace.
there is the world and the wild.
raised by the saints
estranged myself and found family
with the wolves.
treacherous wolves they were!
now i remain beastly and seek
good in the world.
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