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Signs
What is this oblong structure? Why does it have to be here? We stare at it. We admire the rights it must have to be there. Such structural integrity; we must need it for something. Please tell me where to go.
You don’t say much do you? I like your color. When I think about it, you mean a lot. Such configurations of lettering (topography) and symbols! Most anything stops to pay attention to you, sometimes. Sometimes, I even want to participate and hold stance with you; so considerate in your diligence to communicate. You aren’t needy, except for the concern to keep distracting objects out of your visual path; eyeballing everything, so powerful. Signs; who needs a sign? Don’t talk to me, don’t touch me, don’t call me, do not ask anything of me either. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. [define; history]. Future for signs in art and visual communications; I get the message, thank you. I condone a special appreciation to communications majors and computer software engineers; signs-an accolade.
Meanwhile, “Hey you, a sign is posted!” Construction? They are draining something, according to the sign. Bravado is in the midst; draining the lake. This is a storm water facility!? This magnificent idol of aquatic audacity is a storm water project; so conquered and blessed–man made.
Looking for a place… I saw my former future [spouse] during the previous month (one day). A previous life deceived by my own mindset. I’m onto another path, without a future. I’ve been accepted to a prestigious university. Now, I must find a place to stay. Dozens of options are available; Orlando, Indianapolis, Texas and Michigan. Many lifestyles-I figure to follow the money and wait for the entitled forgiveness, as the ultimate payback for ambitions. I think; San Francisco; predicting a view and many places to do the inevitable. After performing research I notice the location, I chose on paper, to reside in for the experience as a professional student. The encyclopedia mentions “Financial District-FIDI”. Instantly, an uh-oh accumulates. I read on: Barbary Coast. Then, my one hour–internet connected computer time–has expired. I leave, walking in the rain, to the lake. While sitting, I wonder about the lake and the massive puddles forming alongside the picnic tables, under the protective roof coverings used to keep them dry. As my thought patterns begin to strengthen, the visions of a rural get away taunts my soul.
Just the previous evening, I enjoyed hot dogs as a dinner treat. A man crept over to where I was sitting for chow and began fondling my backpack. I looked over and mentioned for him to stop, while I patted at my belongings in the backpack. He stood up and then kneeled down rummaging again, mumbling. I told him to move away from the backpack. This man began to yell and spittle food from his mouth. A piece of his chewed up morsels landed on the right shoulder of my shirt, while I was wearing it! I yelled, “Get him out of here!” and he and the staff member reacted. The man then dispersed around Tallahassee, with slight innocence. I was not pleased, especially after this mister touched my right forearm with a gentle chop. Ultimately, that situation ended with him being escorted from the property. What was he looking hard for, so intensely? Domestic Violence; Hate Crimes; Students’ Rights; Veteran Appreciation; while he yelled towards the staff member; while he grabbed at the crouch of his jeans.
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