ascent

as our man strolls off of the f train,

towards points that used to be home but isn't any longer,

he remembers a night where he met a man who was a boy once when the bastard was a boy as well.

the boy was a hacker, and the man was out of the joint when the bastard ran into him.

the sins of our youth usually come back to us when we're older,

but, he wasn't so lucky.

we spoke briefly and in an awkward moment, the bastard had mentioned to him that he saw his picture in the paper the weekend when his youth ended.

"oh yeah, thanks", he said.

shouldn't have brought it up but, the bastard suffers from diarrhea of the mouth sometimes.

i always regretted bringing it up that night.

I hope the man turned out ok. he was always a good kid as i remembered.

god dam, this bus driver is awful.

—the bastard