• a thought...

    Honesty is a funny thing when we only use it when it’s convenient. If you espouse honesty, be honest to the point of discomfort.

Tulsa City Hall, 8am

I’m walking into city hall this morning behind two old men, dressed like they’re meeting with the mayor. A third old man in a lime track suit exits from a secondary entrance where people pay fines and apply for permits, his arms full of documents.

A sudden gust of wind blows a receipt out of the contractor’s collection. All three old man go feral, widening their stances and lifting their arms just slightly out to their sides, as if preparing to wrestle. Ties are blowing dramatically in the wind. The old men, their primal lizard brains firing, box the receipt in against a wall with adept footwork.

They’re instinctively hunting as a pack and don’t even realize it. The tallest old man, in the middle, swiftly strikes out with one loafer-clad hoof and pins the receipt to the concrete. The contractor, crouched low in a power stance, fires out a claw and snatches the receipt from under his pack-mate’s paw.

They all three look at each other, breathing a little heavier, but smiling. They tuck in shirts and smooth down ties. One of them is limping slightly.

“Thank you,” says the old contractor. The old suits nod. Deep deep down in their DNA, they were howling together.

I wanted to hug all of them and howl with them and roam the alleys for prey… but we all had somewhere to be.

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