Morning, coffee, my dreams
The machine, which is life and the wheels
that spin . . .
Man, they are certainly turning
too fact.

It is almost March and the mad pace
of everyday life and the subways
are enough to make a man crazy
on his way home.

Another one of the City’s Homeless
decided to see if I or someone else
would take the bait and fight.

I did not meet this man halfway
but I did persuade him
to think differently about me

He agreed.

This is for you
Fran.
I suppose no one else could understand
except for you.
Then again, I suppose this is what makes you who you are.

This is why –
I love you
and this is why everyone who meets you
Loves you as well!

Ah, The East River.
New York City
Early at sunrise. Thursday.
Come to think of it, the sun is coming up earlier now, which means that yes, the winter will slowly give way and thaw of springtime will be here before we know it.
You have always been beautiful to me. And I have seen you throughout the years, always moving, always quiet, and always watching the world around you just like the Ever-loving Mother, and Mother of All, full of grace, Holy with attitude and generous with your judgments.

At the risk of repeating myself, gone is gone.
Dead is dead and buried is buried.
We all know this.
Or maybe I repeating myself when I say that we all know this from an intellectual standpoint.
Emotionally, however, emotions are a different story altogether.

No amount of pleading with fate or begging for something to rewind or replay can change what took place.
We know this to.
Yet, still, we try.
We beg.
We pray and we ask.
Please, just one more chance??

There’s no way back.
Or better yet, there’s no way to go back to what was said or change what happened.
This is a great lesson to learn.
You cannot change or relitigate the past.
And this is another great lesson to learn.

Whatever could have (or should have) happened, did happen, and no amount of pretending or avoiding or negotiating can change what took place.
So, learn.
Open your eyes.
Pay attention.
And learn your lesson.

I was somewhere in the eighth grade. I was far from a student and far from someone with a good sense of comprehension.
I hated reading. I hated the books and the material. I hated homework even more, which is why I never seemed to do mine or any other schoolwork, for that matter.
English was never a strong subject for me. Then again, none of my subjects were either strong or interesting to me.
I hated school

It must have been closer to the end of the year. This was the first time I ever heard anyone read Hamlet or Shakespeare.

My English teacher was older. She was tough and she was not someone who I would look at and find attractive.
Until . . .

Years later.
I do not relate to the way things were, back when my times in yellow cabs swooshed through the streets in New York City.
I was well dressed and self-absorbed but more, I was blind because I knew the lies within were about to bubble over at any given moment.
You can lie to the world.
You can put on a brave face.
You can fix your smile and deny as much as you choose.

But the truth is always going to be the truth
I was always told to watch for the changes. I was told that the tides can turn and fortune can turn to unfortunate in a matter of minutes.

I am driving fast on the FDR, heading north and going Downtown while listening to a song called English Rose.
I like this.
I like hearing vintage songs from my past.
I like how this one reminds me of a movie called This Is England and the show which came around the movie released.

I love what this reminds me of.
I love the truth of life, which I feel when I think about my recent crash course with life and the fallouts of mistakes.

I never liked the classrooms or the feelings of anxiety that I’d have when walking in the classroom. I used to panic. I used to fear the worse and believe that something awful was about to happen. And usually something awful did happen.
I never liked the fears that came over me or the change in my chemistry when I was questioned or told that there was going to be a test.
God, the anxiety was awful.
I hated how it felt for me when standing up in front of the classroom. I hated being laughed at or bullied or yelled at by my teacher.. I swore to myself that I would never step foot ina classroom again,
I swore that I would never subject myself to this kind of fear or pain or worry.

It is strange to me now how my life has changed.
So have I.

I suppose the surprising or the funny thing about any of these entries is that I never assumed that this would be me.
I never assumed that I would show this part of myself or share the things that I have shared.

My past was poorly guarded and devoted to the unfortunate side of bad ideas.
I trusted people who were undeserving. And I gave myself away with the mistaken understanding that I somehow had to “sell” myself otherwise, who would care?
Who would like me?
Or who would want me in their life if I offered no benefits?