The Allegory of My Life Today

On the blue line to Long Beach this morning, a morbidly obese woman wearing matching heather grey sweatpants and sweatshirt, white hair pulled up into a high bun, spoke to herself at my 8 o'clock. Canvas bag full of bright objects between her legs on the floor. Despite the elements, a beautiful woman with a clear and bright face.

And in a calm, even tone:

You're dead meat.

You're torn meat.

They're going to tear you up.

And I won't stop them.

I won't do anything about it.

I won't keep them apart.

You're dead meat, Curious George.

Don't ask for a damned thing.

If they beat you up and call you mean things,

I won't stop them,

because it's all true.

Looks like it's gonna rain.

Hope it does.

Cool things off.

Help flowers grow.

Losers get out and drive.

Winners walk.

Yes, George, tell them you're my son.

They'll come back for you.

You don't hit me, I don't hit you.

Is something wrong with my eye sight today?