The Inching
There was an inching taking place. It was painful to watch. It was painful to think that someone was watching me watch.
When I was a child I used to think everyone was insane. That part left me. But somehow it was replaced with the idea that I now see myself from that child's point of view and think, "I'm crazy."
There was an inching taking place. It was difficult to measure. It was difficult to stand still watching this until it was done.
I never wanted to trap the ball. That's what my father always told me. All I ever wanted to do was kick it. I didn't want to use my left foot either. I just wanted to kick it as hard as I could with my right.
There was an inching taking place. It was patience emblazoned on my being. I had to watch this happening as if it were going to conclude.
It never concludes. Not even after you die.
