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Some Folks
A New Year's Eve Muse from the Checkered Demon

Some folks dream a good folk shall arise. Folks that don't lie and stab between the blades. Folks that don't charge interest. You know, like guileless?

These folks are rare squared, and do you know why? Look at you. How much slack do folks get from you? If I spend 2 minutes with a stranger in my day I'm pissed. The odd thing is, should things stack up and the encounter grows into a situation, I often wind up with a new friend I'd never have chosen. Like the young man at Christmas Eve dinner this afternoon.

Watching him for a few years, watching both my Nieces and their men. This one is with some group that finds situations for refugees. I asked him what a refugee was, and he read from a UN form off his phone. By the book sort of guy. His beard-stubble has been the same length (3/8") for the last decade. I don't get that. The niece is a willowy blonde, first year into Columbia law. The other Niece is with Jackson, a righteous Indian from Oregon, and they are pot-slingers. All legal.

If I had limitless license, I would shoot half my nieces and their man, but that's just me.

I see a mesa where, on a moon-lighted night, I face my Father. Me and Him across some divide, talking though, after these years. How is it, he asks. Don't ask! My words are too meager.

How indeed to tell a man that nothing he dearly believed in matters anymore? That every oath that he swore to was a spurt of mental semen that only gave him a buzz for the moment until it vanished out there.

Some days it's hard to smile, but that's no reason to frown. I get the notion this has been going on for some while.

May your grand ventures prove solid in the new year. If they don't? Repeat until they do.

-C Demon

Writing Unchained

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