Wednesday, April 22, 2015

The truth can be sad

I have always, through my life, done and said things that haunted me a little or sometimes more. I don't mean to speak here of things I regret. These, rather, are hauntings. The things that leave a strange aftertaste lingering in me for awhile. It is not easy to trouble out their meaning.

It would be safer to say less. I have learned slowly to keep my council some. But the power of that always is strange to me, even as sometimes it is essential. I am a jester, the word of god, a pin among the balloons, nonsense, a friendly word, a lot of thinking, and some not thinking enough.

All of them.

And so today my wife and I were driving home from a plumbing supply store. Near to the plumbing supply store is a Planned Parenthood. Out in front were the endless protesters, servants all, but only of men. I looked in the eyes of one of them, from the passenger seat of our car.

Did I flip him off?

No, no. I didn't feel angry.

Looking at him, I made the sign for madness, and we rode on to the next errand.

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