Laughing

I can't write
and you can't read.
And this is how we'll see out our days.
Laughing because we can do nothing.

You've been alive through more conflict than I ever want to see.
Seen out more dead enemies than I'd ever care to have friends
and sent off more friends than I could ever hope to have.

And I love you because after the job - a mechanic, a typist, a data entry clerk, a hairdresser, a mercenary, a CEO of a small production company whose name has long since faded from the billboard, a roustabout, an usher, a painter of landscapes, a project manager, an apps developer, factory worker for a cordial company, a shift worker, a counselor, a bastard, a stripper, a musician of some small renown, a lifeguard, a repo woman, a cold caller, an agent.
After all of these jobs and all others
You can't read and I can't write
And the way is thus shown.

You've been deaf for more arguments than I've had fast food.
You've known more people that you've never wanted to know than I've known sunsets.
You've spent more lifetimes talking above armies, legions of the sage than I have wasted lifetimes listening to the ceaseless drone of far off traffic.

And I love you because you've blown it - every chance, every golden opportunity, every shot at stealing a kiss, every occasion to stand tall and fight and beat down the face of bullying, every window to scream at every ghost who offered up every ounce of encouragement you ever received.

And you remain.

You are normal
and I am normal
And I can't write and you can't read.

And with the coming of the new day, we will win the lottery
Because every illiterate has their day this season.

Holy Joe.