I gave up fussin' and fightin' a long time ago... my last voluntary hoo~hah left me hidin' in the dog house, literally. Thank God I'm skinny. There were cuss words and accusations. One ice cold beer propelling it's liquid soul across the room. Splash! Right on target. "Now, I'm in your face" were the last words I remember dripping from his chin. I ran......That was over twenty years ago.
I don't like noise or commotion. Except for Led Zepplin. I've lived through a few world wars in the living room, the street, in nightmares come true, and I've survived. Long enough to choose peace. I've never raised my right hand and volunteered again, but I've been there, in the middle of mahem, begging, pleading....waiting.... I remember, recite, the words my Father taught me "wage your battles well"....and whisper them over and over again, worry beads under my breath, when anger show's it's yellow face.....
I'm a chicken, actually.
Fightin' frightens me. Things are said that can never ever be erased. Faces are made, expressions frozen forever like Superman, waiting for just the right moment to come flashing back.....haunted deja vue. Doors are slammed. And sometimes windows break.......
I need the beach......
And a podium....
Peace~love..........
