lemon chronicles

a homeless man wandered into our car today. i say homeless with quotes- his story is he needs change to buy a metro card home. hes getting off at 110th to feed his little sister at her shelter. he needs the card for a lift back to his own shelter. daniel gives him money and as the train pulls out i say, "give another homeless man money and we'll be homeless."

gone.

the only draft i've ever revisited is gone into cyber space. you would have thought the first time facebook failed would have been warning enough. of course not, this time- the one work i re-edit over and over and over was kept in the notes section of a social networking site. You see man, that's the problem with me. I write these things for god knows who to see only for it to evaporate into a million little invisible numbers. i thought of my draft today- i felt like i was floating on a mattress on the middle of the ocean. the sun was beaming down, it felt lovely on my skin- and i wasn't expected to open my eyes being that the shine was just too strong. but the best thing about it was i could feel the water beneath me, holding me up. the waves aren't strong- where i am, they are just beginning. i am floating on the birth of a wave, many waves in fact. and they go up and down - up and down. some more higher than others but always down in the end. then i realize that orange yellow reflection isn't the sun- but light from a incandesant bulb within the small lamp that sits on the table besides me. and the sky is just a white ceiling with a few left over christmas decorations hanging. i start to cry.