A Conversation (Part 2)

He sat quietly as he sipped on his cup of coffee staring past the figure in the booth across from him. "ever listened to Simple Twist of Fate?" The way he spoke was a tad harsh but he said fate with a gentleness, the "F" being but hinted at. 

"By who?"

"Bob Dylan"

"No, I can't say I have." 

"People tell me it's a sin…" He paused for a moment " … to know and feel too much within." 

"What's that?" 

"It's a lyric to the song."

"What Song?" 

"Simple Twist of Fate." he didn't mind repeating himself. 

"Oh, yeah. That song you just talked about. I feel stupid."

"Don't. My my mind is meandering. Just focused on that."

"Why?"

"I can't say."

"Okay."

He raised the coffee once again, it was a little cooler, easier to drink. The harsh sips which often annoyed his company had become more gentle, very much like his "F" in his rendition of "fate." 

"Do you believe in fate?"

"Well that is a tough question."

"No it's not, you either believe in fate or you don't. I'm not asking on your opinion of it, just wether or not it exists." 

"I don't know." 

"How can you not know what you believe in? You either do or you don't. Which is it?"

"I guess I don't." 

"Why?" 

"Can I say that that is a tough question?"

"Yeah, you can. Will you still try to answer?" 

"I think I will." 

Okay. so?"

"I just don't think we are important enough for a concept like fate. That something is controlling all of us."

"I see. Do you want it to exist?"

"Want what to exist?"

"Fate."

"Oh. I don't know. Probably not."

"Why not?"

"I guess I just don't think we are important enough for a concept like fate." 

"I like fate, it makes me feel a little better." 

"Why?" 

"I guess because I believe we aren't important enough for fate, but I sure like the idea that we are, I like it a lot." 

 

It Don't Mean Much (A Poem)

It Don't Mean Much

I know it don't mean much but I'm sorry

I'm sorry for the mistakes I've made 

and the words I threw

I know it don't mean, 

It don't mean much.

I know it won't mean much but I care 

I care even though I fail to show 

With my actions in lieu

I know it don't mean, 

It don't mean much 

What I'm saying is that I think I know 

I know even through I fail to say

To say what's on my mind 

I know it don't mean, 

It don't mean much 

It don't mean much when you have nothing to say

it don't mean much when you have nothing to show 

It don't mean much when you have nothing to prove 

It don't mean much, as such

A Conversation (Part 1)

"Two pints please," was followed by a two fingered tap unto the hard mahogany table, each fingertip on his left hand was calloused while the knuckles where dry, crusted and worn. . "So man, how is life?"

"I can't complain, even if I did no one would listen right?" A small chuckle followed from tight lips. The upper lip was a little tighter on the left side of his mouth. 

"I guess your right. Anyways, tell me about work, was it good?" 

"You know. It is decent enough. I don't really get to do much but that is okay. I sometimes get to do other stuff, personal stuff you know? It is pretty decent I suppose."

"I hear you man, I hear you. It is one of those things, you just gotta put in the hours, get the things they want done and just move on. I'm finding it works okay. Can't complain with the pay check right!?" light laughter followed from a hard face broken by a mirthful grin. 

"No I guess you can't. Tell me, how long have you worked at your current job?" As he spoke his well worn but expensive shoes lightly tapped the ground in a rhythmic pattern, steady as a bass drum. 

"Oh man, its been a while now. 10 months I guess? Wow almost a year. Yeah almost a year I guess. Time sure flies don't it?" 

"Yeah it sure does." Brown hair flicked from covered grey eyes. The skin just beneath his eyes where a shade darker while the wrinkles just above his eyes where deeper, losing nuance a short time ago.

"How is the new job? I heard about it on Facebook or something. Congrats by the way, you deserve the position." That mirthful smile broke free, the lines around the mouth feeling well worn and deserved, lines only created through constant repetitiveness. 

"It is the job I deserved." The lines around his mouth existed just above the surface. His leg stopped moving for a moment. It started up again but was slower, not as precious. 

"Well that is all we can ask for eh? The things we deserve. Maybe not even that I would think. It has been too long since we've seen each other last. We have so much catching up to do, so much so I don't know what to say next. How Weird is that? One day we are talking up a storm and not long after we are sitting silently unsure on what to say when there is so much to say." Brown eyes retracted slowly, eyebrows climbed down the hillside of his forehead and his shoulders lowered ever so slightly. "You know what I mean?" 

"I do. I guess it says a lot about how we've changed and not changed." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't know. I'm just filling in space I suppose." His grey eyes focused quickly on some object in the far off distance, closing ever so slightly to block out the excess light. 

"Always the overly honest type" words better understood with a wink, "I've always liked that about you, straight to the point." 

"I know." 

"What do you like most about me?" 

"You're a mound type person." He stopped, his grey eyes floating while his leg stopped. He nodded.