?

Many days I question my profession. I ask if this was the real readon I was placed on this earth. I ponder what my purpose is and if I'll fulfilled it yet. This one particular day my brain was flooded with such thoughts. Picture this, Edison, 2006 in the library of the high school. I'm tutoring these two kids for the HSPA. It's half way through the day and all I can think of is lunch.

right black t shirt
bullet hole on chest
reminds me of the clear stickers people put on their cars
silver chain
head buried in neck
skin touching neck
exhaling breathing is heavy but timely

Left
black but stained colorless spots
stomach pressed up against table spilling on top like a water balloon
glasses in hand
dandruff paited onto lenses
yellow Rowan pen
scars decorate face like a spinkled cupcake
a clump of hair, unwashed and greasy peeks at the top of the head, like mt. everest

INC. from March 19, 2006