I see him everywhere i go, except in the bathroom. That upwardly mobile, early 20 yr. old .. Cell phones ring during class, he and his cohorts race for their bags - me, i just sit there and not notice it all. I've never been the perfectly clean cut, polished tooth white smile , " breakfast is the perfect way to start the day " athletic , fuel injected kind of guy. My smile is somewhat grayish. My style is somewhat archaic. I wish i could go to the mall whenever fashion or even need dictates. Even this poem is an exercise in meager attempts at what should be greatness. I want the upwardly mobile girl, she has her little palm pilot tucked in her pant pocket under the cuff of her sweater --- Together, we speak of internships , trips to China, Education and how wonderous the future will certainly be. It unfolds w/ no wrinkles. Not even any residue of the ashy , check - to - check , bus token , futile lifestyle of this , my hour... of discontent. Is that I never have what I want or never want what I have ? Is that my words tell the story or my story is written by my words ? Cuz i've spoken love, peace and happiness. I've spoken prosperity,blessings and increase. I've spoken better complexion, life over existence, and cheerful countenances under recently unwrapped morning suns. My words have been UP . Up before Dawn. Up above the stress and transgression ( sins of the parents ) Up and over mountains of insecure, cold heights. And the only falling is my failing. The only falling is my failing ... the ONLY falling is my failing to live up to ... whatever is up there. I've been HERE. I want to be THERE.