sidewalk scribbling

I can feel its presence, just around the corner, always a few steps ahead of me but in the last few months, slowing down, letting me get closer, turning back every now and then to assure me that it’s there, and eventually, I’ll be right beside it. I can see its shadow from where it stands today, just around the bend in the road.  I can feel its eyes on me – the number 30, waiting patiently, knowingly. Is it smirking? Will it greet me with a consolatory arm around the shoulder and a “it had to happen, mate” or is it going to utter a smug retort – “remember when you were 20 and in college, walking around campus like you owned it, like you owned the world, barely smothering your giggles at the older men and women who sat in close-knit circles on the grass, seemingly always singing With or Without You by U2, always playing an acoustic guitar? Remember how you thought they were just so lame ?” Yeah I remember, I’ll tell 30. I just didn’t realize then that those Masters’ stude

The sun is bright today,  Top right corner Of my window.  It's keeping pace,  Like a competitive jogger In bright yellow trainers It's quiet on the bus today, Like a museum For adults, Or an expensive exhibition  For somber (but obvious) Art lovers Quiet -  Except for the music notes That escape from a young lady's Subtle white headphones. Would you feel a connection If she were listening To your second favorite song In the world? If you look hard enough And squint your eyes Just a bit And let your mind Breathe - You can see the thoughts In people's heads (mostly blond But some brunettes)  "Was it a mistake To not iron my shirt  Today Tommy actually ate his breakfast Thank god Just one more day  Of work Of family, of love Unmade beds and dirty dishes Maybe he will wash them Without me asking Today"

Sometimes I think of god as a being with a pretty decent sense of humor, someone who can laugh at others and at himself, the kind of being who waits behind a door for five minutes to pounce out at a friend and yell BOO and then finds true delight when the friend jumps a foot off the ground, someone who wouldn’t be afraid to splash some water at a colleague on a work trip to the lake … you know, someone who doesn’t want you to take life too seriously, at least not all the time. That’s the explanation that comes to mind when I’m walking out on a beautiful sunny day with the breeze dancing around, perhaps like a semi-talented ballerina, whipping small yellow leaves off the trees and swirling them around in an animated piece of art – and for a minute I feel like I’m in the middle of a sweet romantic drama – and then suddenly a large dry leaf strikes me in the face.  Like a blooper.  The director calls CUT! And I look up and imagine god suppressing a giggle. Or when I look out fro