This is It

Today.

Today, I saw the world through a yellow tint. Did R Kelly piss on me eyes? No. I wore yellow-tinted sunglasses. It gave the world a solemn, old, vintage look. The morning looked darker, fuller, more mature - a PG-13 rated morning look. A morning full of strong, blaqk coffee (no sugar) and boring, sugarless bran cereal...not fruit loops or pop tarts.

It is time to grow up.

But Peter Pan is here and he's castrated himself so that he will not grow up. Unfortunately, he's made himself a castrato and the Sicilians want him, now.

I digress.

Women and girls and females. Human. All around campus. In their sandals and shorts and skirts. Skin. And such wonderful skin. Legs and thighs and arms and feet. Polished toenails. And hair.

No wind today.

A woman on the bus told me today, "Everything out there," she gestured outside the four-walled moving machine, but was really referring to the world, "is science fiction." Through yellow-tinted sunglasses, I took in her full, round face, full of age, wisdom, and kindness. A face a son needed to see after running away from home too long.

Mountain Dew, cold, after school. Drank between long expanses of reading 'Stranger'

A dying tree crowded by bricks and people and insanity and people - yes, again, people; an old chair hiding behind a bush for perhaps many months, rained on and snowed on and sunbleached; those who smile only out of necessity and fear; girls who smoke; cigarette butts as ubiquitous as blood in a human body, or corruption or love in a human heart; a sky without clouds, or clouds that look like fish scales; a sigh seen and not heard: like Romeo and Juliet, and tragedy, and Gatsby, and the Ubermensch, and the death of God in the New Age, and a Catcher in the Rye, and a Clockwork Orange - these, too, deserve to have their stories told.

Haikus, novels, short stories - come forth! Preserve them, before we forget them.

How selfish can we be?