i don't even know if there is a joke

whatever you want to be, whether it's a millionaire wheel-chairist, an orphan surfer, or a superhero mom, all you need is the nerve to exhibit that desire. then hit send.
truth beats fiction for strange.
this morning i rocked him to sleep his heavy blue eyes stared at mine. he half smiled. knowingly. i felt my dad. i loved most his clear eyes that shined so blue when he cried. when he stared at me. 
it makes me queasy to think of him gone. gone. 
last night at young women's 17 year old mashae came over to me and baby, "i want to be you." "oh, mashae, i would trade places with you, go back 20 years." 
there are regrets. there are things to be done differently. there are dreams you cannot revive. those dreams do not go gently into the good night. they rage. the only caveat i place on my truce to switch places with her is that i would still be able to have charly, deven, deacon and everett.  if not...no deal.


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