p
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o
m
o
g
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a
p
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y
writings about
walking around
,
the prom
,
and
moving forward
.
If I Wasn't Married to the Most Amazing Woman in the World, I Would:


if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would walk home from work at night,
taking my time and relaxing,
watching the people of King St.
and perhaps even meeting some of them.
i would stop to chat with leg-less Vets
and sit down to play poker with bums
-- to whom i'd lose, rather than giving them a handout.
i'd stop in all of the antique stores,
and that comic book store
that is never open in the morning when i walk by.
i would keep my eyes peeled, and take it all in.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would stop at Borders on my way home every night.
i would grab some Frank Miller and some Matt Wagner from the shelf,
or some Astro City and maybe even some Elseworlds
and find a comfortable chair in which to sit
and read through them all.
i'd be a constant evening fixture in the bookstore,
sitting and reading books a bit at a time
or comic books to unwind after a long day at work.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would return to King St. late at night.
i would go back to the office and play my music as loudly as i pleased
and make myself a sandwich and some soup in the kitchen.
i would sneak up onto the roof and sit there for hours,
reading a book or writing or just watching;
maybe i'd even bring a sleeping bag
and sleep up there one night
in order to watch the sun come up over the Potomac.
i'd prowl King St. late at night
and duck into narrow alleys
and then, wedging my feet on one wall
and my back and hands on the other,
i'd shimmy my way up the walls
and climb onto the roof of another building,
and from it i'd lead from rooftop to rooftop,
traversing the whole line of storefronts.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would smoke one of those clove cigarettes
from that tin of them that my friend gave me.
i would sit on the roof of my office building
or the roof of some store
and i would slowly smoke a clove
and taste the honey tip on my lips
and feel the shifting disorientation
that still rushes over me
because i have so rarely smoked anything at all.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would take the metro downtown
and finally explore it all.
i would get a map and work out a system
by which i could systematically walk down every street.
it would take me years, i'm sure, but i would do it.
i would explore every nook and cranny that this place has to offer.
i would meet a hundred new friends, a thousand,
and find a million new hiding places.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would buy wine at the grocery store, or scotch, or gin,
or maybe i'd pinch those pennies and buy really cheap malt liquer,
like Nighttrain or MD 40/40, or one of those other apalling spirits
that i used to drink at parties in highschool
because no one else could manage to stomach them.
i'd buy the occasional bottle of this or that
and i'd enjoy a glass here or there.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i'd go downtown late at night
and follow the train tracks to the freight yard
and i'd sit in the trees and the bushes
and watch the trains arriving and departing.
i would climb around on the snaking lines of train cars
and i'd peer around in all of the dense foliage,
seeking out the hobo jungles and the best spots from which to catch out.
on a friday night, i'd probably hop a freight
and rumble off into the night to parts unknown.

if i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world,
i would have no real motivation to go home.
i'd have a quiet, orderly, and ultimately lifeless house.
i'd have an amazing home theater system, a high-speed internet connection,
and a nearly-empty fridge sporting bottles of cheap malt liquer.
i'd have clove cigarettes and hours spent sitting in bookstores
reading comic books and trying to escape into fantasies.
soon enough i bet i'd have clubs and then even bars
and in both i'd just sit there and watch and possibly even read.
i'd spend my nights looking for something without knowing quite what it was,
i'd wander the streets and the stores and the cities and the jungles
and i'd try to make so many friends of just the sort who make the worst.
i'd prowl and i'd search and i'd travel to distant cities
by the coldest, most unsafe means available
and i'd look up from the urban sprawl and long for that warmth of the sun
so i'd climb mountanous skyscrapers to sit at their summits
and watch the sun come up, only to wonder why it was that i was still not warmed.

if
i wasn't married to the most amazing woman in the world.


Father, 02/20/01

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