Damn, ya know it more like what don’t I think about? I think about me weakness, about me weekends…my family and health, finances and sometimes how much I’m struggling. Past friendships, wonder what to do about the future, I think and her a lot. I think about mistakes I make, the good choices too, they still count. I think a lot about short falls, especially with my son. I question what some ppl think they have to gain, how petty they are to seek advantage from such a disgrace. I speak a lot inside with the spirit, I try to see his vibration, the melodies the play in my head…always there is a song playing on a broken record in a freight train, sometimes inside my room, some times in a thunderstorm 3000 miles away but if I listen real hard, I can still hear my grandmother singing, grandpa laughing he would whistle when he did, and he was always laughing. My uncle with the Marlboro on his word chiming. The poach swing with the tree trimmed to just a truck, and the humming birds fighting underneath it when it could cover the whole front yard. Searching the oceans for crabs, and camping in a RV made from a hatchback Honda civic. In the morning givin my own knife for my pocket before setting of on the hike, always full belly’s from a woman who loved and cared for her husband and family. Sometimes seeing him catch a glimpse in the waves of a war far away, not yet able to understand why he cried. I understand now Bing.

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