HE AND ME

He’s short hair, me sort of long, they say we are similar to each other, though the more I dig finding the supposed likeness the farther I feel we are from it. He drives a sports car, I ride the bus number 49 and jump from the orange to the blue line of the train. He’s got several checking accounts, I’ve got a piggy bank full of pennies. He lives in a nice furnished place, I have no place, and wonder how long I’ll remain in the same room for. He reads the main papers, I only write down my most displaced ideas. He knows math, me philosophy. He is more Rock and Roll, I’m more Soul. He understands how a power steam cycle operates, I understand how the public transportation cycles in Chicago operate. He wears shirt and pants, me jersey and jeans. He gets up early in the morning, the sun rise announces me a day with no deadline has begun. He drinks whiskey, me creatine and dextrose. He is in the third world, I’m in the first world, he is someone there, I’m no one here. He speeds up on regular two lane roads, I see the high ways from below and travel through the side walks of Western, Ashland and Milwaukee.

Finding so many differences I don’t understand why they say we are similar to each other, though I guess there’s got to be a reason, if they keep saying that. I hope we can get together sometime, he’s my buddy, my peep, my fellow, even though I blame him for everything, I know we’ll talk, not any time soon, but we’ll talk.

JPDR (Chicago, 2008)
Twitter: @juanpdiazr