Archive for September 25th, 2007

Twenty times two

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

By describing these events I’m cheapening their karmic impact, but here we go.

I lent a guy at work who’s perpetually fucked–especially financially–twenty bucks.  The rule of money is, ‘Don’t lend it if you need it back’.  I don’t expect repayment but if he can manage it, great.

I live at home, as in the home of one of my parents.  I’m not judging today.

After work and gym, while coming out of an Office Despot, I was ‘bumbushed’ by a guy begging for a ride to a place about a mile away.  For a brief moment I fantasized about killing him, there’s a hatchet under my car’s seat.  The car is a green 1995 Geo Metro which looks like a ladybug on wheels.

After the psycho moment I turned my back on the bum and walked faster when another voice said, GIVE…even to those you don’t want to give.

All right.  I believe in karma, even if it makes me a sucker.

The bum-guy was obviously fucked, still youngish but with skin as red as a beached lobster.  For the second time in a day I reached into my wallet and pulled out a twenty.  I offered it without saying anything, which dampened the kind gesture.  The bum didn’t care about words, he thanked me profusely and apologized for bothering me, promising to take a cab.  To where? I thought.

Geo started and I drove away.  It’s my car and I own it–I’d even lived in it for half a year on the streets of Long Beach, CA.  As I merged I began tearing up, (“teer”-ing not tearing) fighting a horrible admixture of pity, self-pity and even a dash of cowardice at handing over money to a guy I outweighed by 100 pounds.  Of course, the bum’s not counting on people to give him the ride…

It’s impossible to know the ultimate effect of small gestures.  You can’t expect shit in return, the act of giving and any good or bad feelings will have to suffice.

a real live book of poetry

Tuesday, 25 September 2007

my friend published
his own book of poetry
and I bought a copy.

it is beautiful, this book,
with glossy covers and UPC and even an ISBN so it won’t get lost
in the Library
of Congress like
the Ark of the
Covenant in a crate
across town.

the fact the book was created
and looks and feels like a real book
excites me the most.
as for the poems I can’t read them:  they’re all about love.