i picked up a stranger,
gave ‘em a ride to wherever,
because i read too much poetry and fiction,
and figured (eight, ate, and weight) that there’s always the possibility,
no matter where you are,
that any stranger you come across
could be almighty gawd, o’ gawd,
what have i done,
i picked up that random stranger in my nissan sentra
and took ‘em to where he wanted to go,
but he said he don’t know,
just wherever…
but just not there…
go in peace,
son, daughter, friend,
says the priest,
to which i reply,
go bask in the sun,
but the priest never seems to take my advice,
since they look as pale as ever
each and every
time i see them again, again, again
i had an idea,
ingenious i thought, though maybe just stupid enough to sound profound,
but i would cry all my tears that i would ever need in life,
then put them in the back of the freezer,
so whenever i felt sad,
whenever i needed to mourn,
or perhaps whenever i laughed so hard i needed to cry,
i would have the tears ready to go,
sitting next to the freezer-burned panko shrimp that kept getting pushed to the
back,
the back,
the further back
of the freezer
though hopefully i don’t
forget my tears on a day i really need them
Fred Aiken Writing 