|"The Long Wait"|
I see myself in this picture; the years I stood with my own nose pressed to the glass.
A bar is like a secret society when you're six. It's forbidden and irresistible.
You can't see much through the tinted glass, only shadows gliding through the mystery. Sometimes, a stray beam of light would catch in a glass and for a moment, just for a moment, the room would light up and I'd see the future. But it was a distant future. For a kid, a week is too long. What is 15 years? May as well be forever.
How long before these iron bars soften and I can squeeze my way through?
This was surely me. You who have read the "Getting Wasted" stories know. You who have lived the "Getting Wasted" stories know better. I am this little boy with his face pressed against the dark glass of the dive bar, back to the ocean, taste of hops a dream on the tongue.
This is the next generation of me.
I kid you not. The boy in this picture, taken almost a year ago now, is my little brother. It's in the genes.
Here's to the future.
Sam's a meanie.