Giving Back.
It was a blissful Saturday morning in New Jersey. I stationed myself near a bakery and sat down. I grasped a tin can in my hand, hoping for a bit of change. One by one, the customers entered the bakery and left, not even glancing at me. Of course, to them, I was a poor man with a shabby old beard and raggedy clothes. I sighed and got up to leave when a young boy dropped a quarter into the can. It landed with a loud clang and I looked up at him to see him smiling. As he walked away I pulled out a hundred dollar bill and snuck it into his backpack. Perhaps he would buy a new toy car or an action figure. I smiled to myself and left.
The next day I woke up in the alley where I normally slept. I decided to take a visit to the bank. When I entered, the lady at the front desk was rather surprised to see me.
"Mr. Monzerelli, what are you doing here?"
I whipped out my premium card and replied, "I'd like to make a transaction of 250,000 dollars please."
The lady nodded and escorted me to my personal bank, which was the size of a house.
I took out some wads of hundred-dollar bills before thanking the lady.
As I exited the bank, the lady stopped me and asked, "Why when you have the fortune of a billionaire would you stay on the streets, homeless?"
I just smiled and laughed. "Oh to me it doesn't matter whether I'm rich or not. I care about giving back to those who have been so kind to me.
The lady was still confused and just stared at me as I joyfully walked away.
Glass Jar
She kept herself
In the corner
Where she could hope to continue on, unnoticed.
Somehow though,
her unobtrusive way was sought out, and prized.
Her reflective opaqueness recognized for the simple
Beauty and clarity, shining from her intangible Soul.
Like a brilliant, misunderstood mosaic.
The pieces fashioned painstakingly together.
I Just Want to Tell
I'm a smile ready to burst,
A flower ready to bud.
But nobody even asks,
Why I'm jumping on my toes,
Trying not to squeal,
Tapping the excitement out of my fingers,
Or twisting my hair into incurable knots.
I want to shout my happiness to the world,
But nobody asks,
They're too busy,
Posting pictures of themselves on the internet,
Ignoring reality,
Breezing through life without a care.
The Good Child
Getting up before the dawn. Being the alarm on everyone's door. I don't want any pity, this is just what I do. Make lunches for little sisters and parents. Start cooking the eggs for breakfast, gulp down a bowl of cereal as the eggs are flipped. Send my groggy sisters back to the room to fix their backwards clothes. Run through the house, pick up random things off the floor hairbrushes, paper plates, toys, schoolwork, papers, and clothes. The sun starts to rise, get my sisters' shoes on, their bags together, their hair brushed, ignore their glares, because they had to find matching socks, make sure my parents' work bags are in the right place, for when they hurry out the door, get their coffee made, remind them of the grocery list, look down at myself, and realize my PJs aren't going to make the right fashion statement at school. Ten minutes before the bus arrives, I yank on jeans and a cute shirt, run my fingers through my hair, look for my socks, throw my books in my bag, remember to give out my sisters' lunches. Rush out the door, catch my breath, run through my homework assignments in my head, hoping I didn't leave any on my bed. Ready to do this all again, for the whole school year, staying up late, getting up early, only 'thank you's I get are quick, and sometimes forgotten, but I don't mind, really, because I'm the good child, ready to face another day.