I was in band today and I saw an old joke book of mine.
A girl in my class brings in these joke books, and she writes a "Joke of the Day" on the board, everyday she is there.
She has brought three different books, and they all used to be in my possesion.
I know they are mine because I once sold those three books together at a garage sale.
Now, who really cares?
I don't know. It just made me think.
It is a small world.
But then, my hands caught my eye.
Chapped hands.
Chapped knuckles.
Even chapped over, chapped knuckles.
This world is cold and rough...
Just look at my hands.
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I love this. My mom and I went to a garage sale of yrs once. back in the day. no joke. us poor folk have to scrounge from the upper mid-class. I love you though all the same
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