Be careful with your post midnight mood music. Tear ducts may not care about your twenty year old swagger and self confidence. Even worse, they may stay steady and let your brain ache.
After an interesting evening feast of crackers, JIF, beef ramen, raisins and egg nog, I was set to begin to clean my room of the mass of just stuff. Remnants of last spring semester, the North Carolina summer, and the whirlwind of this fall were strewn, piled, and trampled on my floor. I cleared a gap for my record player. AA Bondy's American Hearts revolved with a keening melody.
I smoothed wrinkles in starched shirts and folded clothes. With a grunt my chest of drawers grated across the the faux wood panels. I hung up a damp white towel. Books stared me down, full of closed pages.
Somethings moved me. Maybe they froze me. Or I did not look. I could pretend, or just sigh.
I discovered five framed pictures from an old photo shoot. I wore ruffled socks, smiled, and looked like my father. Other photos loomed.
A short sword reminded me of a "coming to manhood" night that leaves me feeling dutiful yet oh so young. It is a thin, dull sword. I have not learned to fence.
Bow ties were missing. It was worth the carelessness, I'm sure.
My little brother drew that. Preston.
AA Bondy sings on.
No comments:
Post a Comment