Somewhere between what I think & what I say is what I mean. Old guns, knives with white handles & Hot Wheels. The $5.00 Singer that Cathy found. The heart of a ’77 Super Glide. I feed wild cats. A dog named Duke. Live without the words doing & done. You know I know what I mean.
Before the bullets, I was both-handed. A quarterback. A wrestler. Hollywood. Because of these Ray-Bans & Tony Manero threads. The Harley & ‘Vette style. Fast rides. A ’55 Nomad. Biker roads. Stayin’ Alive.
I was killed on Mother’s Day. 75 bikers in the ER gave blood so I could stand& speak like a man. I walked in a hamster ball. Like a baby. Said can for the first time again. Said do. I’m supposed to live 139 years.
I stock liquid soap on shelves at Take Five. I help. Take day trips on my Harley trike. Red, white & blue. Pedal and handlebar fitted for a lefty. Someday I’ll find my book of Ohio adventures. Cathy asks why the college girls love me.I’m Hollywood. My life is guarded by eagles. I know you know what I mean.
— As told to & written by Michael Brockley
School Psychologist
Adams and Wells Counties
This story originally appeared in Facing Poverty, a publication of The Facing Project that was organized by TEAMwork for Quality Living in Muncie, Indiana.