"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." — Groucho Marx
Sometimes people post something they believe is funny or makes them look cool and you shake your head because they are so far off of the mark.
The dumbass that posted this is the poster child for planned parenthood and general buffoonery.
I wonder if he has figured out yet how many recognize him for who he is and who he isn’t.
These words are for you.
Your ears are who they are meant for.
Along with the hope you’ll hear, understand and listen.
No one knows for certain what will happen if we walk down one path.
But we know alone and apart is an unwanted companion.
Fear says they won’t be heard or understood.
Hope says fear is foolish and far too anxious.
Patience.
Hope says be patient and what will be will unfold.
Maybe.
Sometimes Facebook is a place where you go to read fake news and be outraged by politics and sometimes it is where you see an ex talking to a big oaf.
And you think to yourself, “if she is flirting with that big oaf or just being extra friendly.
Not that it matters because you aren’t together but since you know the big oaf is not just dumb but a bad person you wonder if maybe you received a gift.
Maybe you got lucky and missed a making a big mistake because if there is romance with the big oaf you’d question their judgment.
But you’d never say anything about how dumb he is or ask if he swallowed his twin because that would be mean
 That is probably the response you’d get if your comment about being a stupid oaf was heard and maybe something about being mean.
And if you engaged on it you’d talk about a stalker who keeps poking the bear and say if someone stayed out of private blogs and left other blogs alone there wouldn’t be any commentary.
It would be forgotten and then you’d add some comment about you have no respect for the oaf and think he is Trump like.
But that wouldn’t happen without a face-to-face conversation and that is unlikely so all of this hypothetical bullshit is just that…bullshit.
****
And somewhere in the recesses of your mind you’d ask if you are really jealous and what that might mean.
But instead of focusing on that you’d think about how all the nonsense proves some things never change as much as we might like them to.
We might be years out of college and high school but the people we love or once love, well sometimes they take us back to old times and instead of being men and women we are something else.
Boys and girls who don’t always know whether to say they love someone or not because of complications that don’t always exist any place other than in our own heads.
Long ago I told someone I c0uld be their doctor of destiny and asked them to trust their heart with me.
I said we could exchange keys, they would have one for mine and I would have one for theirs and together we could heal what was broken.
We managed to do so more than once and in multiple places which made me believe we had an innate ability to do so for each other, forever.
That might like silly puppy love stuff, the kind you limit to high school romance but I have come to believe there is truth to it.
All it takes is one moment and suddenly you remember what you forgot.
Smarter people than I don’t spend any time wondering, worrying or thinking about what they think they know or feel.
They focus upon what they can see, taste and touch in the most literal sense of those things.
If you can touch, taste or see it, well you know what is or is not real.
I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream
I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam
And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem
But if I know you, I know what you’ll do
You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream
Once Upon A Dream-Â Lana Del Rey ( Maleficent)
I hear it playing in my head as one of a multitude of songs and poems and try to ignore it.
Wrap myself in the safety and security of the tactile and concrete aspects of life because it provides more control and I crave that.
Crave it because other things are spinning in ways I can’t stop and it frightens me a bit.
But part of me likes the fear and chases the flame because it feels appropriate and right.
Because you search for a Shmata to wrap yourself in and remember the touch forever.
Everything changed and nothing will be the same.
Can’t say whether it is good or bad, only that it is and maybe that is the best way to look at it.
Sometimes words are insufficient which is why people like Whitman write things like “we were together, I forget the rest.”
Maybe that is all we need and the courage to follow our heart across the sea and through the woods.
Mine broke open wide so very long ago I cannot remember how or when. Sometimes I wonder if it has ever been repaired or if it ever will be.
And then I smile because of course it healed and of course it was ripped open again and healed again.
Now it is in a place and position I am not sure I recognize and maybe that is best. Maybe it is a reminder to step out of my comfort zone and test the water.
Out in the cold, searching for a Shmata never knowing if I will wrap myself around or be wrapped in it.
Some say secret worlds are best left alone and others say they exist to be shared and because they offer an opportunity for growth and exploration like none other.
Words just do it justice, so I let it be and stand on the balcony searching for a Shmata.
