god itself has smacked me with this poem

forty five minutes ago

as i walked the steep snaking

path

to purchase my over the counter

drug of choice

i encountered

the saddest sight i have

encountered since

encountering

the understanding of sadness.

at first, from a distance

as she staggered down the same hill

i would soon walk up,

(giving me an owl's eye vantage)

she appeared to be a normal, very drunk underage and poorly styled

hillbilly girl on a hot newport kentucky

night.

the closer i got, the more nervous

she became.

normal.

i, after all, am not a friendly looking person to a lone girl on a quiet

traffic-less

hot newport street. and

this is not the hour to make new friends.

the closer we came the more distraught she appeared.

i knew something she didnt. i did not care

to make her aquaintance in any fashion 

soon, i thought, her menacing fear would give way to thoughts

of lil wayne,or the o.c., or whatever drunk hillbilly chicks

think about. i would find, however, she knew something that I didnt.

as she nervously stumbled down the hill

ever more into my direct eyeline

i noticed the tears and frown running down her makeup

and into her open, breathing mouth.

she was carrying her shoes, and wearing those pants

with straps at the bottom

like baseball pants except from

lane bryant and for women.

then, at further examination i witnessed the root of her

agony.

from her chest down to her socks,

front and back,

she was covered in mud.

wet, and complete. and drunk.

this was an occasion

i could not pass.

"nobody wanted to give you a ride home?"

i asked. she did not respond.

i then said the only words

that possibly could

have then been said to her.

"dont worry sweetheart, it gets worse."