I learned the difference Between burglary and robbery Seven years ago, on a breezy Late summer evening
I remember it well
Not just from the shock of it all But because it had been A rather pleasant day Up until the moment we arrived Back at the apartment
The noisemaker alarm We'd had many an argument over Was going off and
(Silver lining: at least it worked)
The door stood ajar and In a moment of pure brilliance And zero hesitation I went straight in as if I'd had a clue What I was doing
The noisy half of the alarm Was across the room Ripped from the wall and its mate Wires hanging off the door and frame Where that uselessly persistent hunk Of plastic, now on the floor Had once been attached
I picked it up and typed in the code
My eyes began to adjust and count All the ways we'd been violated On that otherwise peaceful evening And in a way, the worst offense Was the still open refrigerator door
The police finally arrived
We gave our statements And reported our losses And filled out their forms And I mentioned that The last time I'd been robbed Was when I was a child--
Did I witness the theft? No Was I home at the time? No Was anyone still in the home? No
Then I was not robbed and certainly It was kind of them to inform me so
When they finally left We packed our clothes And stayed with friends And by the end of the week We were one step closer To buying our first home and
Most of my childhood was a blur and Not because the memories have now faded and blended But literally My vision has always been awful And when Helper is considered a fancy meal Glasses aren't exactly affordable So I learned to adapt
It took some time But I eventually figured out how to read Body language and undertones and even Shifts in scents and what they meant about people I was like a half-blind Daredevil Sans the costume and anything cool about Daredevil But I had a system and you could say I was proud of it
Grandma bought my first pair and everything changed For the first time in my life I could truly see and Everything was new and brilliant and a little scary
But by Monday morning I had mastered this newfound ability I met my friend in the hallway and As we walked to class I went on and on about Airplanes and signs Expressions and fingerprints Faces in the crowd Flies on the wall And how I could see everything now Except the closed door in front of me
An almost pointless flight But it was free And it was raining And I wasn't complaining I just wanted to sleep
But I knew The second I saw him Making his way down the aisle With his big goofy grin Backpack over one shoulder He looked like a Bryce
Sure enough I had myself a new buddy For the next 45 minutes Whether I wanted one or not
I just wanted to sleep
But his name was Bryce (To no one's surprise) And he was 27 and a registered nurse (Okay, that was unexpected) And he was on vacation And visiting his grandma And meeting up with old friends And he loved to travel And run And poetry And long romantic walks on the beach-
Or something I may have nodded off for a bit
He also had a side business Doing eyelash extensions (!) And it was tough to balance with nursing But he liked to stay busy And he charged $300 per session And $90 for touch ups But of course friends and family got discounts And it was tedious work And you needed steady hands to do it And I'd be surprised how lucrative a business it was and dear god I just wanted to ******* sleep
But the plane was landing "Sorry, I just need to send this text" Still talking
We were shaking hands Apparently
Finally, off the plane and She was already waiting With open arms
People are always describing their dreams as crazy. I had this crazy dream last night, they say. I think all they really mean is the dream is still fresh in their mind; crazy means vivid; crazy means I'm going to describe to you my dream as if I believe that it's only a dream but I expect you to tell me what you think it means.
Most of my dreams aren't that crazy, but I did have this really crazy dream the other night. I was running through a long tunnel; you were there and so was Edward Norton.
We (not Norton, he comes later) were running, hand in hand, like the guy and girl do in those predictable action-thrillers. It was dim and loud and voices echoed off the tunnel walls and back at us, upon us, like when we were in Atlanta and the sky opened up.
We were running; everybody was running and people were screaming and I had to **** and up ahead were men in black suits and black sunglasses with black AR-10s and they were shooting and people were dropping and I told you to run but you were scared, and it was too late; they were upon us.
They yelled and waved their guns and we did what we were told. They divided us into two rows, each facing the other. They were screaming and demanding and firing and people were dropping and I really had to **** and they were looking for a man. They were looking for Norton and I could point him out and I had to **** but I really liked him in Fight Club and apparently my moral compass was still intact.
So I kept my mouth shut and so did you and and so did Norton and when I awoke the room was cold and dark but I was on a mission.
Dreams are weird. People are weird. Weird weird weird.