We're Headed Up My Mom's Ass!

We used to sit on the front steps of the YMCA on our lunch breaks and drink cokes from Ike's Deli down the street. We'd stare at the vacant Vogue theatre across the street and devise schemes of what we'd do with it if we ever got the chance to own it. We use to imitate the way our mothers described going out to dinner: "Aww and the waitress...ahh she couldn't do enough for ya. She was over there at least three times asking us how our meal was, she must have refilled our glasses four times." "Oh it was right nice!"

We were naive and we knew it. Somehow the only way to deal with that was to embrace that. We were dumbfounded. We were astounded. We were shocked. We constantly found ourselves out of our element. It's not that we couldn't 'get it' (whatever 'it' was), it was that quite simply we just didn't know any better.

We'd sit there and it seemed if we tried hard enough we could stretch thirty minute breaks into a whole afternoon by slowing down time. I'm sure it had to do with the dying town we found ourselves in. I used to call it a city, but that was when I was a child, I was foolish. I thought everyone led the same existence as me. I know better now, I came from a town, I only recently started to live in cities.

I know better, but I'm not sure I always want to.