Sissies

Coffee is good, a breeze blows outside, and there is this loud bird making song behind my fence. The trees, yeah, the Katobe is blooming, big full white flowers hanging like baskets. I want to reach out and pick them but they are in the neighbor’s yard, so I just watch from over the fence. Speaking of fences, what the fuck is Bush doing with that fence thing? I mean, really, do we need to build a wall between us and Mexico? What next, a wall between us and Canada, or walls on each coast. Will it end or will we look more like the assholes that he has already made us out to be by invading and making war with Iraq? He reminds me of this spoiled kid that I went to elementary school. He never played fair, and when he brought his shiny new toys to school, he sat in the dirt and drew a circle and no one could come into the circle unless he invited them in. The rest of us, not so accustomed to new shiny toys, stayed away from the circle, not too far, and watched as he kicked kids out and let others in, hoping that we would be the ones that he allowed to come into his circle. Then, when I was in the third grade and he was still this obnoxious kid, he made the fatal mistake of laughing at my shoeless feet one too many times and I chased him and caught him and started hitting him and when my brother pulled me off of him, the big ole baby was standing there crying, like a sissy. He never laughed at my poverty again and I never sat by his circle again.