A busted-up wheelchair on cracked concrete. Just another day waiting for a call from St. Pete. Pants soiled. Eyes open. God won't take my calls. No coffee, no cigarettes. Just wondering where it all went wrong. A life of memories and too many regrets. I fought your damned war along with all the other vets. The doctor told me I need pills but never said who'd pay the bill. Told I gotta work by a guy in a suit who doesn't know the meaning of the word. Demons in my head. The Devil on my mind. Social media says AI will end mankind. What's left to lose? My eyes? My sight? My ears are ringing and have been all night. You gaze right past me. Just walk on by. Never a kind word. No Hello. No good-bye. The temperature is falling just not fast enough. The sun refuses to let me give up. I push myself further my legs a mere joke. A mile in a day. I heard the Lord spoke - to dozens or hundreds or thousands or more. Yet no one was listening. They all locked their doors. Nothing...
I was watching a video posted by an online acquaintance from Siberia, and it brought back a memory that I find amusing. My first wife was Russian. I don't mean her ancestors were from Russia. She was. Born and raised. To make matters more interesting, she grew up in the old Soviet Union. We had a lot of cultural differences to contend with, at every level. Those who might have been around us then will probably remember that she and I did not get along at all when we first met. In fact, within minutes of meeting each other, we got into a shouting match. It wasn't the last. One day I saw her waiting for a bus as I drove by, going in the opposite direction. I honked and waved, trying to be polite and friendly. Later, she gave me hell for not turning around to offer her a ride. It wasn't like I might have had something more important to do - like work. One night I ran into her at a party. Her presence made an already unbearable social situation worse, so I started making p...