Late at night in the quiet,
when we relax the stranglehold
over our minds,
that's when our imaginations
can finally run wild
as stallions on the unending beach
of our limitless cosmos.
During these moments,
it's common to feel anxiety,
but once we scale over that wall
we are then free
to be the heroes
of our dreams.

"Running out the clock"
is maybe the most common term
in American working life.
Trapped, financially imprisoned
between four walls of servitude
on a late Friday afternoon,
we wait impatiently
for our parole from the crimes
our owners regularly commit.

A teenage boy sat alone at a picnic bench along the river,
twirling the tip of a pocket knife on the table top.
He then flipped the knife a few inches in the air
and watched as the blade landed and
stuck perfectly straight into a table plank.
A slight smile of satisfaction
pulled across his face.

When the cops came to remove the boy
from society, they found him gently carving
the bark from a fallen tree limb.
He'd planned on crafting a walking stick
for an elderly neighbor.

A week later, after the tears,
after the news coverage,
the half-carved limb remained on the ground,
next to the picnic bench, alone.

One autumn day on a stroll to the cigar shop
I sought out dead leaves on the sidewalk
and stepped on them
for that satisfying potato chip crunch.
A little boy, who stood with his parents
near the entrance of a restaurant,
stared at my peculiar walking style,
with squinted eyes and a crinkled nose
as if I were crazy.

After picking up a 60 gauge acid,
I stood on the corner to light up.
That's when I saw the same family
walking in my direction,
and that **** kid purposely stepped
on every dried leaf he could find
for that satisfying potato chip crunch.

I blew a large cloud of smoke
as they approached,
so that kid would know he was being watched.
My only hope is that he learned
there's often a world of difference
between what we observe
and what we experience
first hand.

A ******* dog without a leash
walked up to me on the sidewalk.
"Hello, dog," I said.
It didn't sniff me or lick me,
but instead sat right next to me
and leaned against my leg.

My first thought was that the
spirit of my late father or grandfather
had come to check up on me,
and for a moment, the stress
of the bills and the job were gone.

Then a young guy in a designer track suit
and moussed hair jogged toward us.
The dog got excited, jumped up,
and took off down the sidewalk.
“I hope he didn't bother you,"
the guy said as he ran past.
"Nope. He made my day."

There is so much beauty in this world,
and it exists all around us.
The old tree along the road,
its imperfect trunk has endured many winters.
The curvaceous young woman on the sidewalk,
she swings her hips as a gift
to all who take notice.
The priest with a hand pressed against the wall,
he prays for us all.
There is so much beauty in this world,
one really must work hard
to avoid it.

In front of the bar
a thin guy in an oil-stained t-shirt
pulled out a pack of cheap cigarettes
from his front jeans pocket.
"You got a light, buddy?"
I pulled out my black Zippo.
He turned his pack upside down
and a single gold coin fell into his palm
along with a half-smoked cigarette.
"What's with the coin?"
"I always carry it," he said.
"If I drop dead,
I want the ******* who finds me
to have a good day."