Sometimes

Sometimes

Every now and then in the flicker of my old age, and the youth of my middle age, I am reminded of the me that use to be.

I am reminded by an attiude or the flick of a hand or a gesture made by another.

In those moments, those seconds, I find myself thinking this.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I wish I could be the old me, You see she was a different me.
Yes, some times I would like to go back to the bad me , so to speak.

the street sister, the urban girl, the gehetto sister, what ever you want to call her.

Just for a second, maybe a minute, then again it might take a little longer.

You see sometime just sometimes , every now and then, I run into them.

You know who they are, the ones that take on that last nerve.

And you find yourself standing in the past one more time or once again.

And try as you may to be the professional, the proper, the well behaved, the christian woman, the nice person, the polite person. the correct person.

They keep intruding and continuing to push and push until, the old me just has to re introduce herself.

Now you know the ones I am talking about , the ones that have the words and gestures that constiute their mental collaspe.

And you find that no matter what you are thinking and no matter what you may want to say, or should say, or could say.

Just doesn't come out that way.

And as you are searching for the right words for that moment, that second, that you are raging inside.

While still , now get this trying to be nice all the while.

This person that has left the world of true realty and entered into the their own personal disfuntional zone.

And have deciced to take you with them, regardless of wether or not you chose to go.

Leaving you with no other reaction or words other than

" Are you Crazy."

by Ira B. Hardy
Copyrighted.10/12.2004