Small

Written in 1999

 

Sitting quietly, calmly carving

At an apple while my ears
Immerse in the cultural diversity

Around me

Passing the luscious apple through

My thin lips, hoping that

The apple will bring my deprived

Body an ounce of nourishment

 

Sweet Cantonese, and musical

Spanish treat my ears to an

Exquisite lingual concert

 

I silently watch as the two

Spanish speaking Chinese women

Exchange a few quiet words

And part, never to be seen again

 

Standing, I pop my brittle backbones

Into alignment and slowly stroll

Through the campus with thoughts

Of high school and unpopularity

Flooding my mind

 

Wuss, stickling, wimp, scrawny are

The words of high school that will

Forever be slated to my memories

 

Snapping back to reality I realize

That I am no longer in high school

I am in college facing a world of

People that will stab me in the

Back and walk all over me because

I am small

 

Sliding into the drivers seat of my

Beat up old Chevy I wonder what

Life would be like if I were big

And muscular

 

No, I will never be like that

I am a stickling and always

Will be

 

I glance at myself in the rearview

Mirror, the sight I see brings a

Moist feeling to my eye

 

 No, I cannot cry because I

Know that there are others

That have a harder life than mine

 

As I drive over the Crooked River Bridge

I slow down and

Pull to the side of the road

And step out of my pickup

 

Leaning over the edge I see the

Raging river rippling below and

I think to myself what a feeling it

Would be to fly with out the aid of

A plane

I head back to my pickup to go home

And I did not see that car coming over

The bridge

 

It swerved and I jumped narrowly

Missing my almost certain death

 

I crawl to my knees, the adrenaline

Rushing through my veins

I can feel my heart pumping

 

I take a deep breath and get into

My pickup and swiftly drive away

 

Arriving at home I stumble into

The house and walk to the sink

I pour myself a glass of water

And step over to my gun cabinet

 

I unlock the framed glass door

And pick out my favorite pistol

A “45”

 

There comes a knocking at my door

I step into the living room

And pick up the mail that had so

Conveniently been placed under

The door

 

I shuffle through the bills and

Junk mail as I walk over to the

Medicine cabinet

 

I place the mail on the sink and

Open the cabinet door and pull

Out a bottle of vitamins

 

Putting the vitamins back after I

Slid one down my throat 

I accidentally bump a bottle that

Fell to the floor

 

Picking up the strange bottle I

Notice the label “steroids”

Remembering back to when

I purchased them I had thought

They would pump me up

 

Though I had never taken any of

Them I thought why not try some

So not knowing how many to take

I dumped a handful into my mouth

Thinking the more the merrier

 

Death came swiftly, after a few

Convulsions my breathing slowed

And my heart gradually slipped

Away until the last beat

 

And I lay dead to the world,
To my memories, and to my
Hardships…Small