(I) Envy Them

At four minutes past eight in the evening, it is raining. Outside, our neighbors are caterwauling, which is the least bit of comfort one can receive after another day spent trying to understand what the law says in letter or in spirit. Take your pick. With microphone on one hand and beer on another, I hear that song again, but this time the lyrics are sung far worse than the nights that went before. From where I sit, I can see nobody dancing but I speculate the guy must be gyrating behind plain sight. With no Katrina wiping the sweat off the edges of his skin, what more had there been one, or a close semblance to one. I wonder why they do not hold singing contests in this forgotten artery of the metro. You really have to wonder, too, how idle times transform ordinary lives into something more or less than what you would expect. At the end of yet another hectic day, it’s quite enough to reward yourself in your own liking

CONTINUE

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