somethings
im sitting here on a borrowed chair, typing on a borrowed laptop that's sitting on a borrowed table, spray-painted black and pasted with pictures of some obscure, dead model by the name of monroe who i don't even think is that pretty to begin with, looking out a borrowed window at borrowed cars, illuminated by borrowed light, partially reflected off the many borrowed mountains that are in my company as of late, answering the door of the apartment i'm borrowing and when a man with a strange way of things (somethings you know right away) says, "you left your parking lights on," i say, "oh, thank you," he says, "you're welcome," and i walk to the car i've borrowed and turn off its lights, walk back inside and continue typing, fill up a shot glass, which has a picture of a family of potatoes and the name of the state im in printed on it, with water and cock back my head as if it were whiskey and it goes down just like every other drink does (somethings you have to assume) but with a little bit more meaning. the table holds two red placemats, my cell phone which you haven't called, the keys to the borrowed apartment and the car, the shot glass, the brita water purifier my whiskey was poured from, a tin can with a red plastic flower coming out like the leaf-less trees from behind the buildings across the street that i only noticed just now because they lie in my way from shooting the sunset just as the orange fading slowly into blue is the background of the scene i just described, a jean jacket i bought because i was told it would be cold here and will probably take back due to its mediocrity and florida's infrequent visitings of the temperatures below 50, and the pictures i talked about earlier. you borrow alot in life (somethings you learn to be true by living). from the time of your inception until birth, you borrow your mother's energy and body for your own survival and growth, and then she lets you borrow her home and some toys and food and way too much of her time for the rest of her life. thank you mothers for being so giving. thank you to all those in my life who have ever been so kind by letting me borrow your time and homes and gas and surfboards and lightbulbs and guitars and porches while you smoke cigars. thank you jesus for letting me borrow your life. amen.