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797

There are eight of them.

They all know each other.

They are really happy to be around each other.

Men are drinking and smoking cigars.

Women are drinking and laughing at men's jokes.

And they all seem so happy.

Fucking South Jersey Union Trash...

But they can't stop laughing.

They can't stop being happy, and talking about births and birthdays, and then next time they will meet up.

And they are already planning their next meeting.

It'll be a brewery tour,

And a sleep over,

And brunch in the morning,

And they keep on arguing on who is gonna host,

Like they all really,

Truly,

Love each other,

It's so fucking amazing,

Whenever one of them dies,

They'll all show up.

I really wish I had an extended family like that.

There are eight of them. They all know each other. They are really happy to be around each other. Men are drinking and smoking cigars. Women are drinking and laughing at men's jokes. And they all seem so happy. Fucking South Jersey Union Trash... But they can't stop laughing. They can't stop being happy, and talking about births and birthdays, and then next time they will meet up. And they are already planning their next meeting. It'll be a brewery tour, And a sleep over, And brunch in the morning, And they keep on arguing on who is gonna host, Like they all really, Truly, Love each other, It's so fucking amazing, Whenever one of them dies, They'll all show up. I really wish I had an extended family like that.

(post is archived)

[–] 2 pts (edited )

Reading this made me think of my own story from last summer. I was on a small road trip and had stopped at a small prairie town for the night. Across from the campground was a burger stand and I was happy to forego beans over a campfire for a greasy double cheese burger. There was only outdoor seating but the weather was great so I didn't mind, in fact I was happy to be outside. The next table over was 6 or so people, mostly older 50s or 60s. They obviously knew each other well and were talking up a storm. I couldn't help but overhear and it soon became clear that 2 of them were in the middle of a long haul and had stopped to meet with family from the town. Not one was wearing a mask. Not one observed social distancing. And when they were done and went to go their separate ways they shook hands or hugged like it was a movie from the 60s.

Contrasted to the millennials also buying burgers, all in masks and immediately scuttling off to eat their food in isolation.

[–] 1 pt

That's what I wanted to be, when I was middle-aged.

[–] 2 pts

This kinda chokes me up a little. It really does. I miss people. I mean real people. Not this sea of glowbox zombies and self appointed Social Stasi brigades. I miss being able to just openly talk with people without having to look over your shoulder or worrying about something you said leading to a confrontation. I miss real conversation with real people about real and interesting topics.

Im glad you got to see it, and I am glad you told us about it. Because I fucking miss it.

[–] 0 pt

What you just said made me sad.

[–] 2 pts

Yeah. It is sad. I type this while trying to see through a watery prism, trying to contain the flood that wants burst through the dam.

I have a good friend that I have known for over thirty years. He and his family are coming down from Tennessee for a week in the middle of March. We are meeting out at Lake Fork where we will get to test our skills at who can catch the most large mouth bass, and talk shit to the loser who has to buy dinner. His son who just graduated high school last year is coming. So is his daughter and her new fiancé who I look forward to busting his balls to see if he is worthy of Godfather HooBeeJoo's approval.

I can't fucking wait. It feels like light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Getting my gear together has given me a great distraction from all the bullshit.

[–] 1 pt

This strikes me as prose with line breaks. There is nothing wrong with prose poems, but why not break it up into short paragraphs rather than one-paragraph sentences? It might improve the poem.

[–] 1 pt

This is why I never win frosties

[–] 1 pt

You know you could win the Frosties easily if you wanted to.