the lost man chronicles
as I age .20
as i age i have more i want more and need less. nascent didactic money-maker by trade, first-born wordsmith at play. my deficit of memory breeds creativity. my trek home is occasionally broken by storefront bird watching. have learned people are not intolerable, they're charming. from white bread to university bred and well read, to tin trays and silver spoons, and of knowing little to knowing less. still struggle to be honest without injury, sensitivity never being my forté. looks count, winning is something, money buys love and sappiness. brevity is the soul of wit, and surprise is its essence. only chew half a stick of gum at a time. chrome and silver soothe me. if there was no sun I would always wear black. liable to change my name once a decade. feel fortunate to be a legend in my own mind. find the worst in a few, the best in many and the mediocre in most (to be left behind). can find treasure in thrift, the new in the old and the old in the new. once ran away from home by climbing on my rooftop. faith: believing is seeing. vision makes up for what memory lacks. partial to the extremes, fearful of the middle. likely to be whisked away by the charm of wind-swept chimes. my acquired tastes cross generations. proud not to know who won the Stanley Cup, World Series, and the Superbowl. resigned to never be an armchair athlete. hip without the hop. choose classic over contemporary. can convey disbelief, device, aruse, cunning and mischief with a furrow, a squint, a lift, a smirk, or a smile. can spin, twirl, dream upon a dime.