I.
I watched a father clean the outside of his child’s dormitory window.
It was a simple gesture, something to do as the child puttered around,
learning the corners of their new living space.
II.
A cashier asked if I was at least 18 years old.
I laughed, finding the inquiry and expectant truth funny,
and even though I had no reason to lie, I kind of wanted to.
III.
I stumbled when an old, problematic thought came to me.
It captured me, for a moment, trying to sink its teeth of
cyclical patterns and history into my fleshy side.
So It Goes 