Remember that house you lived in back in 1982. You had a party, a fight broke out. I got a ride home from a guy. We stopped at the convenience store. He stole a bottle of alcohol. I assume he was a friend of yours. No concern for the rule of law. I didn't realize there was a type. The type of person that enjoys stealing. It must be conveyed by a look in the eyes. I wasn't aware of the unspoken language of the criminal mind. My face must have conveyed confusion, or disapproval. He took the bottle back inside the store, and changed his mind. Maybe it was his choice and had nothing to do with me at all. He dropped me off and left never saw him again. That night was the first time I heard your name. I wouldn't see it again for 32 years. The newspaper explaining what life choices you had made. I could only assume I understood. Why would strange encounters suddenly make sense. I would call you a criminal, but the newspaper was creating an image of an upright citizen living the American dream.
It's not what you think it's what you believe. Patricia '96
No comments:
Post a Comment