THE STORY OF MY LIFE, HE SAID.

Thursday morning coming down with the rain making its tapping sounds on the AC unit. I didn't get up until five. Just laying there too lazy to swing my legs over the side of the bed. But I am up, sipping coffee. Hoping for a good day. Oh wait a minute, I think I am the one responsible for making it good. So that's just what I'll try to do.

In 1997, Steve and I went to work at as Managers of the "Capri Motel." We had a older lady that worked as the laundry lady. Barely five feet tall and almost seventy years old. Her name was "Opal." One Sunday morning we stood behind the desk, her and I, going over the room list. When a young man came to turn in his key. Young, tall and skinny, he wore a long coat. He also had a ring in his nose. Opal never seeing up close someone with a ring in their nose was quite awe struck. After a few minutes of chatting, he rolled up his sleeve, showing a young man in a hypodermic needle, fists clenched, pounding on the sides. Trying to get out. Pointing at it he said, "This is the story of my life you know." The silence that came from Opal and I was deafening. It was a heartbreaking sight and told his life story. Later in the day, I wrote this poem as follows.

THIS IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE YOU KNOW.

You have a ring in your nose, she said.
Stretching to her full five feet,
She looked up at him in awe.
Grey curls plastered to her face.
Her old, him young. Very young.

He smiled pleased to be noticed.
It comes out easy, he said.
And quickly snapped it from his nose.
She grimaced in pain.
Pain he seemed not to feel.

Not wanting the attention to pass,
He rolled up his sleeve,
Pointing to a large tattoo, that nearly covered his arm.
He said, This is the story of my life you know.

A tattoo of a needle adorned his arm.
Showing a young man,
Trapped inside,
Pounding to get out.

A slight gasp escaped from her lips.
But she seemed not to know,
Just what to say.

Turning to go,
She whispered one more time.
You have a ring in your nose.