Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Real Life

Real Life.

Studying the place around me.

Plain room, fluorescent lights, bunk beds.

Man with colored pencils. 

Doctor's office.

Green and yellow walls; a slightly outdated preschool.

Plastic tables.  An assortment of folding metal chairs.

Gnats.  A hint of Lysol.

 

 

Stereotypes.

Coats. every color. Oakland Raiders, Dallas Cowboys.

Bowl of chili, a piece of bread.

Lack of eye contact. Shame. Mumbled thank-you’s. or none at all.

Shopping basket, dirty torn jeans, hungry eyes.

Garbage bag filled with Timberland boots.

Collective consciousness of sadness.

Poor, homeless drug addicts. Penniless people.

 

Brotherhood.

Smiles. Joking. Laughter.

Dinner. Men grubbing down.

Sports and girls.

Brothers, husbands, fathers, or boyfriends.

Shocking.  Upbeat moods.

Info about drugs affects.

Community. Human passion. 


Miami.

Gigantic lard of a van.

People loitering outside. Drop Inn goers.

Literal barrier. Social barrier.

The bread girl. The bean girl. The potato salad guy.

Ravioli changed to beans.

Foreign feelings. Overload.

“Keep moving. KEEP MOVING!”


What I seen. And Who they are.

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