Is Seeing Believing As the sunlight tickles his face He walks along the sidewalk. He looks like your father. So he walks, his white converse pitter-pattering on the cement and the wind blowing through his ears. As He walks he sees many things. He sees a road to Stockton, spilled electric kool-aid, a small man drinking a Big Gulp, a sad girl longing for a happy one, soggy McDonald’s fries, a spider web on a woman’s head, and a tree with bark made of peppermint and leaves filled with liquid gold. He sees shards of crystal glittering about, gasoline held up with wooden beams, and an Oreo cookie making love to a glass of milk. He sees a melting clock and Superman socks, mutually assured reconstruction, jungle love with an aggressive mug that snarls and drips with hate. A chow mein girl that has lost her way but is finding the means to get it back. Then suddenly it turns to night right before his very eyes, but he keeps walking, his converse still pitter-patter on the cement and the wind still blowing through his ears and he continues to see many things. He sees a bus to Nowhere (the town not the place), a time traveling Lincoln penny from 1968, another dead bird in the street (oh wait no, that’s a pinecone), a bushel of trash, and a lion trying to tackle its prey and it misses (oh well, better luck next time). He sees five bugs frozen dead like a still life photograph in Pompeii, crushed cancer sticks, nighttime butterflies, and a tube top magic carpet waiting to give him a ride, and then He makes it home. He glances at the house and starts to walk towards the front door. He knows when he goes inside the only thing he will see is pain and misery. He will see a father that beats him and a mother that doesn’t care. He will see a brother who molests him. He will see no food on the table, too much vodka in the fridge and meth in the pipe. He will see despair, fear, and a knot in his stomach that will not go away. He makes it to the front door, opens it, and goes inside. Maybe he’ll go blind… END