Friday, July 19, 2013

Everyday a  man wakes up wit' a hard-on is a day less wit' somethin' to worry about

Suspicion is the mother of all jealousy

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

LEMON GREEN BUS

Monday

June 24

23:08

 

If I hadn’t “run” into a certain “sad” reminder on wheels, I pro’ly wouldn’t be writin’ this blog entry. Yeah, sad reminder but then again, it depends on where you’re standin’, you know, the angle from where you’re lookin’ at it.

 

16:16

 

I had jus’ walked of a fast-food joint wit’ a grateful belly and a tongue that won’t stop lickin’ a pair of contented lips. Lost in the festivity goin’ in my tummy, I’d put a foot on the road after a quick left glance for on comin’ vehicles. Two steps in, a lemon green bus out of nowhere (it seemed so) had scamperin’ me back to the curb (concernin’ the color, don’t take my word for it; sometimes my sense of color is a little bi-polar-ish).

 

I collected my scattered breaths jus’ in time to read what was written on the vehicle. It was some company’s bus and the name was boldly splashed on all its sides (the sides I could see). Name so bold even a visually impaired person could see. it felt like some kind of in-your-face proclamation.

 Jus’ before the bus sped out of sight; those ubiquitous inscriptions seemed to scream above the din of the rapidly building homebound traffic, “You’ll need us someday.”  I looked around to see if anybody else heard what I jus’ heard. Of course nobody did. I was vergin’ on crazy.

 It wasn’t until I’d safely crossed the road that it hit me, I’d seen this particular lemon green bus before…

A Week Earlier

Tuesday

June 18

11:45

 It was almost mid day and sky wore patches of gray here and there. The weather was between 17-20 degrees jus’ like the weatherman predicted the night before.

 We’d all jus’ arrived at the expansive neighborhood where a different kinda of festivity was about to take place. I stood in the back, a couple of feet from the folks who were seated under the small tent. I was dressed in black (all black everythin’ like a certain Jay Z would say). I had my black scarf over my face Arabian-style and that drew a few inquisitive glances. It was a cold cold dry day, what was a brotha supposed to do, huh?

 11:52

 Some woman with her baby strapped to her chest (chest to chest) played wit’ the tiny tot. I got a good view of the baby’s face from where I was and the lil’ man seemed like he wanted to holla at me and y’all know what they say “No matter how badass you are, when a baby hands you a toy telephone, you better answer it”. With those very wise words in mind, I started makin’ funny faces and hand gestures at the kid and that kinda got a laugh and a lot of drools out of him. The mother turned her head to see what was so amusin’, I looked away.

 The next few minutes I occupied myself wit’ lookin’ around and readin’ some of the names of the “landlords” in that neighborhood. Names like Duncan, Fredrick, Chanda and so on were etched on granite “doors”.

 12:17

 I was back to amusin’ the kid from my arm’s length position in the back of the gatherin’ and the baby was lovin’ every minute and I was lovin’ it too until the first shovel full of dirt landed on the casket with a soft thud and bevy of women plunged into a dirge. Quickly, I put on a somber look like the rest of folks at the burial ground and looked on as the remains of the newly departed got covered in soil.

 12:30

 As we headed to where the cars were packed, I noticed that hearse that brought the corpse was actually a bus (not the conventional hearse Hollywood made me believe was the be-all) but then again, who says a hearse has to be a limo or a station wagon?

 Was the hearse the same vehicle that almost knocked me down a week later? Yep, you already guessed it. You smart people!

 Outro

 My close shave wit’ the hearse got me thinkin’ about death and dying. And nah, am not thinkin’ about this in the am-scared-of-dying sort of way. I’m lookin’ at from the goin’-away-and-no-misses-you kinda angle. I’m talkin’ about folks not noticin’ that you’re not around and that my friends, is the real tragedy.