saturday stroll home.

Repetitive, a work shift is, keeping up with the standards I set myself. now and then, exceeding my own expectations, I left tonight, feeling accomplished.

I rewarded myself a pint(or four) on my walk home.

The Lion serenaded me with a line-up of dim-lit tunes, mostly jazz, but feeling that of a night of romance.

So ironic that I show, alone.
but that’s alright.

my knee is used to bouncing alone.

hard to read, the obsidian tyger...

is he a sphinx, or am i simply stupid?

I like to think I possess a good judgement of character and can usually understand people quite easily, but after the few hours I've talked with him so far, I'm left frustrated. and restless. Although intrigued by the stern look on his face, his personality intimidates me like a spear. yet he shares with me,

"this spear is not for killing,' he said '...it's for dancing, if you're willing"

I enjoy his stories, the tales of his adventures, the ideas and concepts he's come to familiarize himself with, yet instinct tells me, he has a thick skin that doesn't want me touching it...

I find myself tip-toe'ing like that of a sure-footed feline, trying to figure him out.

If this spear isn't for killing,

why am I so curious.