At all moments changing with each half and quarter breath (part two: scene i)

Indeed who we become is not all that we are.

As Mr. Mooney repeatedly harangued me for my name, number and social location drawling, “what do you wanna be when you grow up?” – “doo yoo do haaash?” – “no seriously... how yoo dooin?”. Mixing it up with the occasional sexist remark. Not a word from my lips did his ears receive. I could feel the beauty washing from my eyes, the patience that I’ve built my soul upon and my hope for humanity leaking through the soles of my feet…I’ve sprung a leak and I need a soul patch.

Quietly reclaiming our dignity from the brinks of such insanity – is valid. I don’t care what the academics and caffeinated activists say. Living is much harder than is given credit for – taking on super powers when one is lacking superpowers oneself is a feat and a half.

Especially when your back hurts.

And to think, Mr. Mooney was once a baby - once he stood with strength and fortitude, looking at the world with wonder. A benine being, new to this world and wanting it all. Once long ago, before he wreaked of cigarette butts, and stale beer, been stained with the muck of back breaking work and social ignorance he may have been beautiful.... But now he stands before me hollow and unaware, a blithering idiot, his breath spewing insult. His grubby fingers poking at my ribs obscenely, and pressing his phone number into my palm...I can't help but wonder - is this a face only a mother could love?

What of life if not for the brief glimpses of each other’s fullness?

Sebastion, looks into me empathically as he walks by, with questions in his eyes, he slows as he passes...Mr. Mooney grabs his arm. "Hey, hey! What do you call five blondes sitting in a tree?" Sebastion, shoots back, fingers cocked in Mr. Mooney's direction, "Something sexist."

"No! Cuntry. Get it!? Laugh dammit!"

Sebastion, looks at me again smiling, "Didn't I call it? Do you want anything?" Somewhat relieved I sigh, "I'm ok at the moment, I am glad you made it."

There are precious moments - where our divinity can be seen. Where we shed our armored skin - or like how we begin this life - are nothing more and nothing less than omnipotent. Fragile. Radiant. Benine. This wasn't one of them...Sitting in a muggy coffee shop amongst crumbs of dope and whiskey that Mr. Mooney had pulled from his lint filled pockets to make humble offerings of - in the hopes that it would get him a date.

Life is violent to the living.
We are all but fragile feathers in its wings.