Though I Have Dentures, I Can Still Bite.

I was swiveling in my desk chair, my eyes closed, thinking many thoughts.

Danny poked me and made writing motions.

I only write when I have the urge.

At this moment I don’t.

With the thoughts racing through my brain, perhaps I should.

For no reason, I was thinking about the parade I saw of lines of soldiers marching home from the war.

I was four years old and small for my age.

Some kind and aware viewer pushed me through the crowd and placed me in front of the line of viewers.

I witnessed a rite I have never forgotten.

Lines of wheelchair after wheelchair with legless men being pushed before me, the blaring martial music was at a defining level.

I never saw the end of the parade.

After hours of watching, this four year old was tired.

Silently, I left the cheering crowd and went to bed.

I saw sights I have never forgotten.

I have never been in a war.

In my pre-teens I was in many fights.

I almost killed a guy. At that time it would not have bothered me. I was defending myself.

I am not a passive person. When someone hits me, I hit back.

Only once, to my regret, did I start a fight.

Through the years I have berated myself.

What I did was wrong. I am no angel.

Later in life I became friends with some of the guys I fought with.

Though I was small, I was a good fighter.

A boxing ring professional once asked me to join his ring of fighters.

Don’t mess with me.

Though I have dentures, I can still bite.

Morrie

(January 1, 2021)