“Please God be something else to somebody else” 

that was a quote he wore etched in black ink on a fire red t-shirt

it bothered him that he had to tell askers that it was a quote  --  he had to suppose they didnt understand

what quotation marks on either end of the sentence were  --  by the Scotsman Irvine Welsh from his novel Filth

he was the kind of man who delighted in reading true words                                                                

it didnt matter to him if they appeared in fiction or nonfiction
both avenues  he argued  ought to be lined with true honest words or why should you waste your time reading them 

when the national News appeared on television hed turn it off if it played any tabloid bits
that owing to the precedence of growing up when nationally broadcasted news had respect for itself
and reported hard news

                                         if someone wanted to be titillated  there was plenty of shit out there

rank Reality TV shows to tune into

he wasnt one to waste his time                                                                                                                       

on the street  occasionally  someone  usually an eidget of male persuasion  would walk up to him and warn him he ought to consider his opinions better

to which he replied  This is the truth  and the truth doesnt bear an opinion

it was those kinds of public interaction that tempered his spirit and fixed him to wear such t-shirts readily  

 
he wore them out more times than he could count
wore them  without any furthur thought or contest  because they were simple unabashedly true statements
                                                     

why would he or anyone be ashamed

why would he  or anyone  be challenged for wearing a prevailing truth on their t-shirt

though  to be frank                                                                   

                               he wore his t-shirts with a hope of arousing the challenge of a braying hillbilly dimwit juiced

on God Smack who viewed their cuntry through an aholes locked door and keyhole prism 

                                                                                                                                                  shining tarting

reflecting off their wet irises

their noses nearly crushed at the wood 

                                                                such stalwart and excellent blinkers

which really took on some fun

for when he saw the bright lighted keyhole stopped up by their faces on the opposite side  he stomped the door panel with the heavy sole of his workboot leaving a black rubber impression of his boot on his side and a black and blue impression on their eyebrow and cheek

it had to be tough if one was honest to explain away why your face was bruised while peering through a keyhole

Yathink

he had a tricky back so the last thing hed be caught dead at would be bent over at a keyhole

it was better for him and his spine to walk erect and wear the words and his convictions on his chest for all to see

it was better to have nothing to hide and be out in front of anyone and all

Conceived out of a cut-up on Easter night,  5  4. 15

1243,  Day-Between-Two-Ts,  8  4. 15