glory days are always glorious
at least as perceived through the lens of hindsight
mix tapes of indie bands
sunday poetry
shitty Tolkien knock off fantasy novels

rode my bicycle in the dead of winter
the air froze my breath as it left my mouth
up that damned hill
to get to work
only to clean up
old pancakes
and learn spanish curses
from the mexican dish washers

the english teacher who took a shine
invited me to dinner

a curmudgeon of a mentor
worked out at the "Y"
and was humbled by that 70 year old bastard
(she entered my life)
drunk my self shirtless
had my heart broke
broke a few

listened to my friends rant
at my decision to join the military
tears shed
as I resolutely walked out
of their lives.

11/23/2009

Posted on 11/23/2009
Copyright © 2026 Travis G Finborg