A real fool that gets paid to talk to strangers in the street.

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Monday, July 26, 2010

Driveways.


There was always a driveway.  No matter what went in and out of it, it was there. Whether something stayed for a while or it went away.  The concrete always sat in the sun or stood by the clouds.  Bikes, feet, pogo sticks, Dodge Caravans, Lincoln Town Cars, Suburbans, and Volkswagen's pulled in and out for years and years.  People opened their doors with smiles on their faces and also left with blank stares.  There was a fence at the end with marks of sports paraphernalia making its way across the paint like a symphony about adolescents.    Christenings, graduation parties, basketball, fistfights, smoking tobacco and pot, futures, pasts, Christmas Presents, they were all brought to that driveway.  With cobblestone lining the sides and trees dropping their opinions and seasonal droppings, it was always there.  Pine cones, pine needles, leaves, cigarette butts, graduation caps, statements that define one's youth and a moment, they were all left on that pave-meant. 

Cars come.  Cars leave.  Children wait for their lessons with the fearful sound of their parents engine pulling up.  Teen’s hearts racing when their lovers heart charge up the street, the sound of a door closing, and a car moving in reverse. 

Reverse.

We always feel more in control, much more cool when we’re looking over our shoulder and pulling out, like there’s a camera watching us somewhere in the distance. 

Waiting-in another driveway somewhere.

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