The Small Things

“It’s the small things man. It’s every second. Every second of every day. Every step. Holding the door or barging ahead. Giving, taking, doing without. Believing. Hoping. Seeing stars. Saying something. Anchovie pizza. Washing you hands. Outside. The butterfly effect, that tiny draft from one small set of wings that changes the hurricane’s path. If not you, who? Peaceful resistance. The want of a nail. The loss of a grain of sand. A voice in the wilderness. Warm meals. A place out of the wind. A kind word. A thoughtless act. Always look at the bright side, thank you Monty.”

I met a wild haired Jesus bum walking on the street, you know the type I mean man, look like ragged meth-heads,  dirty, from dreads down to their feet.

Those were the things he said to me, asking for some change, and now I think he wasn’t wrong, guess we’ll have to rearrange.

He took the money carelessly, walked on in a ramble, no he likely isn’t all that wrong, saying. “It’s really just that simple.”

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