What's to Come

Pulled up three chairs outside for us all to sit in the sun. She leaves to get us coffee across the street. I enjoy the company. I keep picturing my favorite novel, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I don’t think these people are all that crazy. It’s taxing trying to keep up with their minds, but everything becomes clear with time. The older man with glasses tells me about his wife’s operations that involved draining chocolate from her sides. I sit, listen, and nod. He tells me I’m a good listener. If I didn’t listen, where would the stories be? I’m assuming chocolate didn’t pour out from this lady, but you never know these days. I’m tired, but there is something very profound about this place. We all tend to forget the underlying honesty of life that is presented here. You enter a place like this where cellphones are a bad idea to pull out and then realize life has always gone on in idiosyncratic ways that make sense. We’re trying so hard to be perfect and prove ourselves to strangers, when the ones that last are the ones who aren’t perfect and full of chocolate.