I re-invent myself weekly

if weakly

Minor tweaks
like a tweet with one less
character

or last summer’s summer song
in this winter’s music mix

don’t cotton
up
to the threads
of used to be
as
any
calendar
can
testify

Then again

re-visiting witness
meats the bone
marbles and textures
what’s gone
thin with
time

And, then, again

tales re-told
re-fresh
the
line-up
————-

Prompted by RWP and this post to a  Facebook pal.
————-
How nice of you to remember, and so kind to suggest your recollections of me would include any hint of awesomeness. Made me feel wonderful. Thanks.

After James River High, I ran from the marvelous foster home (I believe I telephoned you from there, do you recall?) when the “foster parents” left for a three week vacation and left but us wards of the State to milk their bevy of moo-cows and tend the back forty. I was quick to depart and beach bummed around Carolina beaches until fall set in and the State caught wind and was sent to an orphanage in Pittsburgh.

Anyway, being an emancipated minor ain’t the blessing it was made out to be, and idiocy ran rabid in the sixties, and I confess to being a minor lead dog in all that. And so, to not screw up the odds that a vast majority of male wards of the state have a future run-in with legal authorities…I did just that. Small and petty and non-violent, but a beef none the less. And me, being me, it turned into a whole damn cow and took decades to reconcile.

But it did. And here I be. A somewhat bitter pillar of society. OK… more bitter than pillar, but a known good neighbor, with a long-term lovely, and it’s howdy all around. Very few people know about the foster homes, and orphanage, and subsequent legal limbo. Just a guy.

Enough about my past. Can’t change it. And wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t have met you. Or a handful of other people. A very few, who, by their grace, beauty, and joie de vivre, convinced me to stick it out.

You charmed me Kathy …… And I’m glad I got the opportunity to tell you.

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