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I stole a pencil from her when we were kids.
This fancy fuck-off drafting lead pencil with a weighted stainless steel grip.
Built heavy and tough.
That pencil served me for thousands of sketches and drawings.
Millions of words. Years of abuse.
She always mentioned how I stole it from her when we met…
And how she let me.
Years later our friendship shattered,
And the invincible pencil suddenly broke in half, mid-sketch.
I tried to hold both together with super glue,
But neither stuck.
Super glue only works on useless shit.
Arminta Elementary School, early 90’s.
Typical school day. Walk in. Sit down.
Copy the agenda off the blackboard.
Then suddenly…
Two men in paint overalls enter the room.
They are carrying a brand new dry-erase board.
Dusty old chalkboards was out.
Sleek new marker boards were in…
Mrs. McCallick, my teacher, rushes us to finish copying.
The men stand at both ends of the chalkboard,
with their new dry-erase board and screwdrivers at the ready.
Before they lift it to secure it to the wall, they ask her,
“Do you want to clean the blackboard first?”
She answered “No, let someone find that.”
Walking in the supermarket.
Surrounded by families.
Mothers, Fathers and a couple of kids.
Occasional baby.
I think of the responsibilities it entails.
The amount of care and attention a child needs.
(For ‘em to grow up proper anyways)
A parent isn’t the center of their universe anymore…
I think to myself
“Having a kid is like ending your life…”
A baby girl grips her mother’s embrace if only to combat gravity.
“… or finally giving it purpose.”
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