for a friend

If there was a star in the sky
I’d wish upon it
better days for you . . .
But sometimes it feels the stars
are all taken, leaving the sky dark and godforsaken; a desperate space

this self-imposed penance is just that
as is the self-denial of a solace richly deserved

the light of the soul never dies
but occasionally flickers;
a sign that things do change
black to white, night to day

there’s a star in the sky
and I’m wishing on it
better days for you . . .

if you’re left wondering about the star
i put it there
just remember I may need you to find me one someday . . .
I wish you faith, love and a belief that life goes on
because it does.

M

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Single Digits

It was so cold this morning (2º, to be exact) that I saw a politician walking across Boston Common with his hands in his own pockets.
Seriously, it’s friggin’ cold up here.
I’m not complaining, just stating a fact.

But what really frosts my junk are the people that feel a burning desire to remind me just how cold they are with their witty and unoriginal-as-shit banter.

“Cold enough for ya?”

Man, I love that one. Never hear it before either.
No, it’s not cold enough for me.
I love it when my testicles turn a bright navy blue, fall out of my scrotum and shatter on the ground like Christmas ornaments.
And I really love it when I can’t feel my face or my legs. That’s great.
I like it even more when I break off a key inside a padlock preventing me from opening the store where I work and then I freeze my everloving ass off waiting for the too busy locksmith to come and sawzall the goddamned locks so I can get in. (truth)

So, is it cold enough?
Damn it, dude, shut the hell up and go build an igloo. Step AWAY.
Yeah, it’s cold enough for me.
I lied.

The temperature dips into single digits and people just fill up with all kinds of stupid.
And yes, I can hear you.
Why don’t you and the wife move to Florida?

Idaho. Alaska.

~m