The Perfect Buffer

Word on the streets growing up, if you accidentally swallowed a fruit seed of any type, it hold grow inside of your stomach, cut through your brain and pop right out your head like a red balloon. It would grow, grow taller then the Eiffel Tower, touch the skies and say the Hail Mary’s to any plane going by and birds making their nests. I wonder if there were any fireworks or wind blowing with amusement once they heard the first leaf fall.

I drunk the lemonade, not the kool-aid but lemonade for a while, sipped from the champagne glass as I vividly recall giving in to the tune with zest; yes, I did. Bought it cheap!

It was one furious nightmare that rented a space on my brain, free of charge; it made bed and wouldn’t let go. I dread its inner existence. Those fears were rampant and real. They would curl up through my vains, pervert my soul and take stock of it, parking themselves like automated rocket blasting through an open field. I mean, the thought of I walking around like a scarecrow with a tree popping out of my head, made the batman retreat into his cave in a jiffy. Nevertheless, it drove my bus.

I would patiently roomage through the fruit, painstakingly picking the seeds up, one by one, so none would see the daylight out of my stomach. It was a choreographed pungentry dance of fear, sans the horse off course, never witnessed.

I would play this dance religiously until I was grown enough to know better. I grew up and started reading, and the buzzer went off like that. I came to realize it was only a tattletale, an unpleasant story but how it came to be, is a mystery as the story itself; no one knows. I was told to like countless other children and assumed it was common practice. Whatever it was, didn’t stop me from loving fruits. Like one annoyed rebellious child, I rolled out the dice, sprung to action and did just the opposite; I went for it and disnt look back. I went for the fruits, so much so they are my muse, my meal, my zen, my handkerchief, my handbag. And as I was cutting an apple yesterday and came across this, I wondered if a tree would finally pop out of my head if I ate it. In the age of corona, it would perhaps, be the perfect buffer.

Two Ladies Down South

Yeah, surrounded by “two ladies” down South Miami, one by each side and wondering when we will ever be able to be this close again, trust anyone who gets this close to us.

I am hugger and kisser, I like to feel the warmth, closeness to souls, a touch and vice versa but it no longer applies. We have been drugged to a prision of sorts, put on trial for an undisclosed unheard elements, forced to live in this cocoon of a colorless bubble of sorts of tomorrow rivaled that only to whatever faith can prescribe. It is not for the faints of hearts but a charge of enormous will and strength. A testy apparatus to say the least.

I must admit however, I don’t know about you but staying home has given me a different perspective, time to reflect and make a dictionary of thoughts considering my quarantine has been unraveling itself long before anyone has ever heard of the word, quarantine. That’s right I know this video; it is engraved on my soul and  been played on my brain like a plague. Yup, just like that but one thing I know foe sure, I am still standing and so can you.

It is Friday and the weekend, a long one I may add and if given the opportunity to be outdoors, enjoy yourself, have fun but with caution. Remember, the beast is still out there lurking and ready to find its next prey. Smile always. Have a safe and blessed Memorial Day weekend.