Sunday, October 9, 2011


i sat on a bench in the gym locker room.
sweat poured from my body.
i watched it drip off my wrist bands.
it was sunday afternoon, and no-one was in there,
'cept a little porter.
he was mopping the floor.
i thought of the bleakness his future.
maybe he would get lucky.
who knows...good shit can still happen,
i guess.
he was young and thin,
of african american descent.
we made eye contact and smiled at each other.
i wished i had his youth.
he probably wished he had my money.
i decided to test my theory.
i told him i would give him every dime i had,
to be his age again.
he laughed and said he would make the trade.
i told him it would be a bad deal for him.
he shook his head in disbelief.
he said he'd make the trade.
youth is wasted on the young.
damn kids.

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