Dressing the stage…

I sit on a balcony on the second floor. A large balcony with nails dangling in free space and a constant wonder if one will impale me on the head at some point. A Progresso soap can sits upon the wire table which acts as my ashtray.

A brief moment of a child climbing out of the pool with a floating device that resembles a life vest with the addition of a strap running between her thighs with a strange wonderment of this will in the future cause some kind of fetish that she will never trace. Has my mind become this abstract that I no longer can hold on to semi-civil thoughts? Or is it simply age and not caring for the appearances one keeps.

Another glorious summer day in West Chester, fucking PA. When will be the time that I am back home and sitting amongst the clutter of my belongings which I have found to suddenly discounted through miles? This leads me to the stress of catching yet another weekly flight on a messy holiday weekend with people that do not belong in the expert traveler line. Odd to travel with no luggage and not caring if there are no black shoes in PA.

The day of dreaded delight of being with two individuals that just simply do not understand the social wit of the situation which they are placed. A constant blurring of them breaking a line that forms and the realization they do not realize that bending is the goal. To speak of cock and balls around the ladies of room is a felony. When will your simple mine grasp this concept that it is a general rule that certain topics are taboo. Fools…

Tomorrow I do this again while replacing the child in the pool, whom I have watched learn to doggie paddle from a distance, with a woman, single women later in life, still logging longing for the feelings of a high school romance.

The stage is set…