Half of the people can be part right all of the time. Some of the people can be all right part of the time. But all of the people can't be all right all of the time. I think Abraham Lincoln said that. I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours, I said that.

"Land ho!" Capt. Chrysanthemum called, and though we had been on the water for 7 months, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow to leave behind the sea's unsteadiness and feel the solid rock of land beneath my feet. 

There was no steadiness in the rock ahead of us, though none of us knew this at the time, and the crew was wasted in record time. The rock was probably as steady as any (as their reputation goes) but alcohol reduces any solid base to jello and drives man's stupidity to palm-tree height. And so we boarded and tried to trade our sea legs for rock ones, a feat deemed useless by substance. 

At least the intoxication might dull First Mate Carl's cannibalistic urges. There can only be so many peg legs on one ship before we non-pirates are deemed cliche. 

**

World Cup is starting soon (ole ole ole ole) so soon my neighbors will be woken by the "GOALLLL"s off my indulgent Peacock subscription. The familial rift in Thanksgiving won't be the timing of the turkey or my cousin's Green party vote this year, it'll be my father and my football-obsessed bodies hanging uselessly around the tv all holiday. 

I enjoy warning my neighbors about the noise that'll ensue from football even though nothing will change but my topic of conversation. I'm not as jockish as some people think (which is horrendous I can't believe I've done things to earn that title it makes me sick) but it still amuses me to think they're adding "loud football obsessive" to my list of character traits. Remember, I've only known these folks 3 months. Anything I do is exposition because 3 months in people don't consider anything "character development". To them, the way I am now is the way I've always been, even if my current disposition is a complete 180 from the way I normally act. 

**

10.8.22

I was waiting for the bus in the early evening dark and a man sat down across from me. It made me nervous as this area is typically littered with loose screws and to prove it one came by and asked for a light. 

Before this, however, the man across from me said "how you doin' baby" and I froze and turned to see that instead of leering he was on the phone. He was asking how she was and saying he'd been off let off early and she should call him later on. 

When the lightless man came round the man across from me gave him one as he enjoyed a post-work smoke. He didn't offer it outright, unlike my resounding "no", he only nodded and reached into his jeans so the screw could catch on. 

The screw lit up a joint and returned the lighter, the owner of which seemed a mix of displeased and indifferent to the man now on drugs. They spoke about the year and make of the man across from me's bike. It was "from 2019" with a mirror taped on, the tires well worn, and the stoner said it was "dope". He adjusted his two backpacks as he smoked his reaction and I shivered in my coat. 

Screwy grass man wandered off and barked at a dog protesting his leash on the other side of the street.

The man across from me, armed with his lighter and cigarette, had, I remember, asked his daughter "what time is it there?" That question made me feel safer as I sat in the dark waiting for my bus now 5 minutes late. I wonder if she is in college as I am, checking in on her father, or thinking of him. 

As I waited, chilly, regretting my skirt, I thought how glad I was to be near him. Initially nervous about my legs in his eyeline, I now felt as though he'd gladly step up to any creep who called my ass tight. 

**

Killing time, nothing's done
no woman is walking dead 
when she's sitting, waiting to face someone. 

How could she allow her eyes to see
if seeing made her feel more dumb.
As much as people talk of blondes, looks are deceptively easy. 

America makes birds of us all
perched in a chair she wants more
but the big ones upstairs, however weighed, laugh in tall. 

She sits alone and quiet
although self-inflicted, she's blameless for her stomach's queasy
feelings are nothing if you have the right shoes, if you buy in, cop out,
and just post the bloodiest riot. 

**

I'm sitting in a cafe right now, a main character move I know, and a gaggle of children have entered. I only just looked up to make sure I was right, but do you know how I knew? A choir of o-shaped coughs. Children include their tongue way too much in the lung activity that is coughing. The tongue should play no part in what is strictly a respiratory issue. They all have mittens too, the little Norman Rockwell devils. I've never seen so many colorfully dressed blonde children in one place before. The change of seasons from Fall to Winter is truly categorized not by the bareness of trees but by the colorful puffiness of those under 10. 

**

An alarm's going off somewhere inside
I wouldn't say I'm pyrophobic, but there's panic, I'll cry. 

It smells like burnt toast: God, not a stroke!
I'm not paranoid, just prone to unrest as most tests will show.

Why am I stressed about Tuesday? that's 3 weeks away,
I should be focused on Johnston, it's chess and his play.

Lucifer's quiet, Michael screams loud
I don't see one person, your head is a crowd. 

All eyes are on me and I'm in the way
ego blocking the mouth for things I want to say

What balloon would I pop, nothing pre-conceived
there's no expectation that I'll ever succeed.

I'm racked like her wine, I'll cover my glass
imagine how much lower I'd be souped up on grass!

Jittery pretention stooped in a skater's slump
I'm shaking, twitching, life is over, heart dead, my brain makes a new drum. 

Loose lips, tight tongue, cut off from trash 
on the line it's my ass
all the little people up above point at me and laugh. 

**

One of the guys in here looks like a late 70s Richard Dreyfuss complete with incognito sunglasses and bulky winter clothes. He's making his way through some books and a coffee, if he traveled from '77, why here? The coffee can't be that good, Christ. Man would it be funny if I stacked up the courage to ask him for an autograph.

Guess I'll never know. 

The coughing children are hopped up on hot chocolate and their dads are talking afternoon plans that do not involve them. The older one is licking his muffin wrapper and then putting it down licked-side down. Muffin kid is interested in my laptop stickers. I can't remember exactly what they are but I'm sure they're appropriate enough for him to look at. When they sat down the dad with a hat apologized because he saw me watching them (I guess I looked bothered) but really I was just taken aback that the 5-year-old was given a hot chocolate practically half his size. 

As they leave, I'll prepare to as well, though I won't be leaving quite as many crumbs.