The Big Picture

I'm just so sad about it, but what can you do? Four months! Just snipped out of your life like commercials in TiVo.

I say to brother Joey, hey, I'll miss you, I'm sorry. He understands. He's very stoic. But then, it's me that's going into the slammer.

I don't feel guilty because I didn't do anything to deserve it. I just was. It's not even karma, it's the Lottery in Babylon, the one Borges told us of where interest is spiked if the drawing handed out bad news as well as good. You win ten million. You lose your house, your wife runs off. The citizens actively support it because they see good times for them which will mean more only if bad goes down somewhere.

I report to the front desk, which is wide and waist-level. A little lady, young, is across from me, and she is giving instructions. But I cannot hear in the clamor of the room. But the desk is wide. But I cannot lean towards her because that would be, I don't know, forward. And she doesn't care to lean towards me because I'm fixin' to be a jailbird.

She talks on in the same voice. I wonder if it really matters I'm understanding none of it. After all, I have the big picture.