Pencils, Ink, and Pencils: Something Like A Story

Feverish, I had walked through the heat

Antibiotics to fight the battle within me

Waited for me at a counter

I had never been there

And walked passed the stairs

What kind of drugstore has an upstairs

The security person redirected me

I got my medicine and looked around

Finding readers

I took them downstairs with me

After looking to see in every corner

What I might need in the future

It’s within walking distance

Easy to get to

Easy to pass by there coming or going

From the campus, the park, the wherever

Security guy approached

You don’t want to buy those here

He said as I looked at the set of colored pencils

In a back corner

I worked security and loss prevention

I know what he’s thinking

It’s the middle of the work day

I have a visible tattoo and wild hair

And a feverish sheen

From the fever

I’m in a back corner holding a paper bag

With my prescription in it

And readers he thinks I can’t afford

After having moved swiftly through

Every high value (and low value) area

Of the store

He gently takes them from my hand

The readers

I walk with him away from the colored pencils

He is a hero saving the store from theft

In his mind

And he has in reality thwarted the sale of both the readers

And the colored pencils

I let him play out his story

“I thought they were like just $3.”

I tell him

I’m feverish, but not above a little fun

We walk back upstairs where he shows me

The prices

“I must have been looking at the strength and thought

it was the cost”

I tell him

Go to another store, he names a competitor

You can get them there for less

I wonder if his managers know he is throwing sales away

He will tell them he prevented theft

I leave frustrated with no readers

Which I need if I’m to go swimming with one of my friends

And wear my contacts

No colored pencils to shade in my drawings

Full of regret and longing but needing to rest

And take my medicine and cool off

My roommate dropped by there a few days later

What did you need here? she texted

I tell her where the colored pencils are in the store

She brings home a 3-pack of readers too

Because we both need them at times

My fever is gone

The pencils are treasured now

And that guy, he may never know

How close he was to something wonderful

Someone valuable

He may never know that things are not always

What they seem

That sometimes we need readers

To see clearly

Sooner rather than later

Even if the cost is a little more

Graphite pencil, ink, and colored pencils from the drugstore

Behind the Song: When Beggars Ride

“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Is a saying which means that merely thinking about something doesn’t get the job accomplished, and was used as a sort of rebuke to the poor, but that’s doesn’t have to be the whole story.

I thought about how dreams are motivation to attempt the extraordinary. With opportunity and self-discipline, people can change their lives, accomplish amazing goals, and reach their dreams. Wishes are hopes defined, and dreams make life worth living.

I wanted this song to celebrate the creative process, the risk taking, and the determination it takes to get new ventures off the ground, or to solve particularly tricky problems. I wanted the feeling of it to be relaxed, and dreamy as solutions and vision come to us when we are in a receptive state of mind. And I wrote it further along in the story, with the beggars on the way to the goal, doing the impossible in a more equitable world for everyone.


When beggars ride, they can change the world.

~ Wendy Kheiry

Find When Beggars Ride at the links below

Deezer

Spotify

YouTube

Apple Music

Lids No Pans

A quick look into a Banker’s box

Reveals a carefully wrapped lid

Cardboard folded over carefully

Taped down tight

Around a glass and stainless steel lid

Whose pan now resides in another state

Under a different cover, another too

All the planning and packing

Came to nothing

In the rush of last minute decision making

I have lids, no pans

And life is like that sometimes

Someone has pans with no lids

They got the better end of the donation decision

And I am left holding these lids

What does one do with orphaned lids

Will I take them with me to a thrift store

To see if I can find a rough mismatch match

Can I repurpose them for something useful

Use them to create something beautiful

For now they will be fine

Wrapped up in storage

While the back of my mind explores the paths

Of possibilities

I’ve been down this road myself

Removed of my purpose

Again and again

What to do with this life

When the obvious route came to an abrupt end

Redefining as I go

Letting go of the definition

Using a soft eye to see the greater wider vision

Taking tentative steps

Always asking

Is this a good step

Is this right

Wanting stride forward boldly

Wanting to move quickly into something new

Held back with the knowing

That what seems to be firm ground

Can give way suddenly

And leave me with lids

No pans

And a world of possibility

For creative problem solving

Hoping for a mismatched match

grey steel kitchenwares
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