a bad case of reflectionitis.
07 September 2005
  Paper or Plastic?
It's like walking out of the grocery store during a downpour.
With the car keys in one hand.
A couple of plastic bags in the other.
You, running to the car.
In a rush.
Sick of getting wet.
Eager to get in the car where it is dry.
So we can go home.
You're always ready to go home.
But I'm always holding the keys.
And I'm wearing a raincoat.
I'm in no rush.
Nothing in the bags will spoil if drizzled on.
So I walk to the car.
That I made sure to park so far away.
And I watch you the whole time.
Yards, almost years ahead of me.
Gripping on the door handle.
Yelling for me to unlock the damn doors.
Because we're getting wet.
You're soaked and angry.
I'm dry and content.
The keys are in my hand.
You always let me drive.
So I walk at my own pace.
And bring my raincoat.
Because I know.
You'll run.
And I'll walk.
In the rain.
You would.
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