I have to share this earworm. Sorry DJ.
One can find irony almost everywhere in life. The irony in my life is that the only thing I’ve really felt like writing in the past week or two is a post about how I don’t feel like writing anything.
I have to share this earworm. Sorry DJ.
One can find irony almost everywhere in life. The irony in my life is that the only thing I’ve really felt like writing in the past week or two is a post about how I don’t feel like writing anything.
Your routine began
Your dad
Your puppies
Your bike
Your dad’s bike
Your bike rides with your dad and your puppies
Your walks too
Your routine
Your mom
Your dad
Your puppies
Your mom calls 911
Your mom shot your dad in the head
Your dad’s life ended
Your routine ended
Two days ago, I was enjoying my train commute home. My eyes were closed but my mind knew the stops.
Three stops prior to mine, the train hesitated for much longer than normal. I hoped an accident or someone who decided to commit suicide, wasn’t the cause.
Fear not, you emerged, an elderly lady with a pink stocking cap and a basket. You entered the car.
You had your fare.
You paid your fare.
You get to ride.
The conductor was annoyed when you departed. He barked out orders to walk around you, as if you were an object.
I was ill yesterday so I do not know what happened.
Tonight, I am following my train routine. The train stops three stops prior to mine. The train hesitated much longer than normal. You entered with your pink stocking cap and basket. Deja Vu, but this time, not so much.
This time, the conductor was not as patient. He yelled at you for making the train late for “this” as he pointed to your basket.
You responded by telling him to shut up.
You had your fare.
You paid your fare.
You get to ride.
As he reached the door, he decided he wasn’t going to take your words. He stomped his feet and screamed so that everyone in the car paid attention.
“I am in charge. You are not. You do not talk to me like that.”
You laughed in his face and told him that he would have to scream louder hecause you are deaf. He stormed off in a huff.
You had your fare.
You paid your fare.
You get to ride.
I don’t condone mean words, but yours were reactive. I don’t know your situation. I don’t know his. I also don’t believe that the customer is always right. In this case, you seemed to be right.
You had the fare.
You paid the fare.
You get to ride.
To the conductor, who is in charge? She pays your salary and so do I as long as we can afford to ride. We are, if we are not abusive. You are not allowed to be rude to her for taking precious time loading her basket. I hope you are never in her shoes. You will break your ankles under the weight of your arrogance.
Crying and shedding tears.
I miss you and you haven’t even left.
But you will.
We’ve shared secrets.
I will never tell. Your secrets travel with me to the grave.
I hope mine enjoy the same journey.
We will not share anymore. I want you to know.
I miss you already.
You haven’t even left and I miss you.
I find it is much easier to read. Maybe it is at the right point now.
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Writer, Essayist, Poet, Photographer
My thoughts take me on interesting journies! I’d like to share some here..
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a little of this & a little of that served with a lemon wedge
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