27

27

 

It’s one of those times when inevitability shows up dressed like Elvis, gyrating to a cover of “in time” by Mark Collie, and you know the message is for you- not because of another mans’ pelvis region in your face, because its just another expected sign -like vintage coca cola bear and Dapper Dan signs at some forgotten Virginia gas pump two weeks from anywhere else. Someone could have bought a new set of teeth for the price of those signs, and something tells you this Elvis guy isn’t here for gas, nor the relics of the “good ol’ days”, citations on exact dates needed, if you please.

27 fell on a Sunday, that’s right, the day after Saturday, but I’ll admit we honored Saturday well, as usual although everyone dispersed with pale, determined, yet lost faces a little too soon I guess, but hey, do work son. what I talk about when I talk about the ol’ 2 and 7, is that bitter realization, with your waking thoughts, that your life is exactly the way you didn’t see it back when people could afford imagination and dreams the empty bed with the over-zealous springs and that horrible wallpaper your first cheerful reminders that this day, like all the rest, is going to be a long one.

You lay there and try to imagine a reason or two to celebrate, but you’ve got nothing. your at that age where suitable girls want nothing to do with a guy like you, you’re not successful, or charming, or even promising as far as they can tell- your just a guy named joe, who’s 27, alone, and without prospect.         If you were in a Mel Gibson movie your name would be ‘Almost’, poor b*****d.

     its every last thing that could have been different, all your decisions or indecisions that led you here, and of course the one that got away,  wondering what the hell happened, and how did I let it?                    I used to think I was a decent enough guy. But apparently, just like virgins and unicorns, that’s a myth- perfect people, just like perfect lives (by perception of course) require proper prescriptions,            “follow dosing instructions carefully” �"  im told imaginary picket fences are cheaper these days.

Its climbing out of bed and thinking “whats the point?” �" I don’t need to be reminded of the life ive built, some might say ‘The life ive been dealt’, and that’s okay, but I don’t care to place blame.                Pointing fingers outward never really fixed a thing- except ego for a day.                    It damn sure never brought anything good to my life, though there was pushing involved                      both physical and non- depending on all of the three gender differentials