Monday, February 27, 2012

A Day in My Home Town

One man, his world in a sack by his side, taps the recyclables through the flap, the litter he spent the morning collecting, hearing each bottle break as it falls in the machine. He will cash the receipt and use what he’s earned for a package of cigarettes and a meal at McDonalds, where he has a coupon, ducking the cops each step along the way.

Another man taps on his computer, and a maze of mezzanine loans for boarded-up strip malls and mostly vacant office parks are marked in a key stroke as current, preserving his obscene bonus and saving his firm from having to acknowledge its insolvency. He knows it's illegal, but he also knows the IRS, if he didn’t do it, would attach all of his homes.

I sit somewhere in the middle of all this, trying to keep my heart from feeling and my mind from going tilt, for it’s important to remember that things are perfect the way they are, for these two know their choices, they know this is their journey, and they’re given what they need to grow by this and this alone.

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