i was over at my friend's place the other night. he's a trucker. he lives in a trailer, but he keeps it really clean. it's funny, he looks a mess, but his space is always tidy.

we met at the lucky lil's in rocker. it was dawn and i was coming back home. i was filling up, and i saw a skinny hairy guy pop out of a semi cab. he was wearing boxers and socks and a t-shirt. he blew out his nose by covering one nostril with his thumb and blowing hard, he did that to each side. then he stretched.

it was wierd seeing this scrawny dirty guy stretching on the asphalt in front of lucky lil's. he did lunge stretches and circled his arms around. he pulled his head from side to side to stretch out his neck. he yanked on his ankles to stretch his thighs.

i was done gassing up, so i parked. i leaned my seat back, like people do who need to get a few winks before getting back on the road. it's pretty common, you see it all the time. but i wanted to watch this guy. it was too weird.

then, as the sun came up, he did tai chi. he planted his feet and put his arms out in front of himself. then really slowly like something growing, he moved and wove patterns around himself. his face was coarsly bearded. his hands were grimy. i wouldn't call it beautiful, but it was alive like when you see a wild creature in its burrow.

he finished with his longish mulletish hair sweated to his head. he walked heavily but smoothly towards me, towards my car, to the door of lucky lil's. he went in and bought coffee and pissed and rinsed his head.

he came out of the door and then straight to my window, he knocked on the glass. i rolled it down, and he handed me one of the cups of coffee. "Name's Sam," he said. i thanked him for the coffee. "You know Tai Chi?" he asked me. he said tai chi like t was halfway to a d, and the ch was feeling more like a j or soft g. he sounded like david carradine.

i told him i didn't.

"You wanna learn?"

i never made it home.

i'm supposed to remember things. but then i let myself go. and i forget. i'm supposed to remember to keep my loves close. those things i really care about, keep them close and tight. people don't like them. people won't like them. they will poke you by belittling them, and it hurts even though you know it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter if they like it or not, but they won't understand how much you love it. how much it matters to you. and it will be just another thing that you said, another thing that is just the same as all of the other things.

but it isn't. and i forgot.

but, there it is. and a good lesson. people don't like what you like, boy. people don't have the same lenses and desires and feelings. you are born alone, and you will will will die alone. i don't have a problem with that. but i shouldn't forget. i shouldn't forget.