Boston speaks

Sword karate zen

Sword karate zen

I’m not afraid. I’m back at work. I go to the bars at night. I don’t take it personally. I just think it’s terrible. It used to be survival of the fittest. Now it’s survival of the luckiest. I saw an old man with his face completely wrapped in bandages walking his dog. He’s not afraid. Everywhere you look there’s a guy with a black bag or using a cell phone. I’m not afraid of that. There’s this hill in Brighton where you can catch air from either direction but there’s an intersection at the top. I’m going pretty fast and the light is green, and I see some kid in a Honda about to catch some air. He sees me too, which is why he turns the wheel at the last second and drives the right corner fender into the torso of the driver behind me. The guy is done, eyes wide, trying to talk without any lungs. And the driver of the other car turned out to be his friend. It was sad. I’m not giving up driving because one chach bag almost killed me and another might get me later. I’m not afraid.

Categories: Arts/Literature

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