Hope(full)

The trouble with hope is that, sometimes, you think it's something that can be found at the burning tip of a cigarette, in the mystic vibrations of a body-buzz, or in a dried up lump of hard rock lined up on a fancy glass table in a hotel suit.  But they say hope floats.

Humans do a bizarre many things in the pursuit of hedonistic pleasure - rarely stopping to think about the traffic accident they're about to cause, until they cause it.  Then you have to look back across the bloodied pavement, pick up your baggage, walk across the two-lane highway and stick your thumb out.  

You could be broke, or divorced, or broke and about to get divorced, or you could be just another sinner begging whomever for just enough energy to make it through the day.  This is the way most of us feel - we walk around all day, in our skin, praying that nobody will find out what really lies beneath this civil disguise.  

Remember the stand-out, down-on-his luck guy on the bus.  When everyone's holding their brief cases and coffee cups and are headed to work, he's the guy taking the bus to a different corner because the cops told him to leave and the shop-owners told him to get his ass of their property.  It isn't nice, but it's real.  You could lie to yourself and pretend this stuff doesn't happen, but it does.  Maybe the movies are getting too real.  Maybe life doesn't provide us with enough wiggle room.  

But hope, there's always tomorrow.