I have a friend (3) #4

I have a friend named The Suited Dragon. Our stories intertwined once I left golden Constantinople and he floating Venice. Now we stand before a future - clink, clank, buzz, beep - the doorways shut and close. Will we continue down a single path, or divide our light.

------

A metronome of glassy fire spews from his mouth. People, myself in the past, stare, looking to see the shade, but only a clear surface remains. You feel it is too true. Where are the hidden secrets? But I think it's all there. It is more than enough.

------

He's a glamorous hero but takes pride in his dragon birth. He made the cutoff, barely. And for me, what is our relationship as dragons, from different lands? Well, sometimes the outside world might see me as a caddie, but he never makes me into that. That's the wonderfulness of it.

------

You may wonder where his New York suit, Gucci belt, and Rolex watch came from. You are no fool, for not long ago he was merely a child of Venice lacking these fancy goods. But when he entered the wide world, he opened his wings, caught sight of others, and grew. He became more and different, a person of people.

------

Those he met caught his wings and came with him. For a while, it seemed like he'd never slow. But that's his true greatness. He's strong in the wide world but enjoys his old quiet Venetian life. Either is fine

------

To end this tale, I must tell you this: a moose pisses in his hair every day.

------

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have a friend named Squirrel. I spend little alone time with Squirrel, but when I do, I say, "Wo, she's braver than me". It sticks, her actions, like the pine that hugs your hand. When the other people left for a moment, and we were sitting at Ben & Jerries alone, or when I drove her home, she talked. She talks to you despite having very little in common. You can always get a good old midwestern story or some family drama from her. I listen to NPR, I tell her all about the programs, how cool Moth stories are. She listens. So few interactions, she likes in a hole in my head. Only to pop out and make me go, "Wo, she's braver than me".

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have a friend named Boxer. Bonk! Boom! Bam--- KRCKZZZZ- head reattached-. Reset Complete. See, that's what happened. I feel like my idea of Boxer has morphed multiple times.

File 1: Boxer. She fights and argues for what she believes is right. Is incredibly passionate about injustices in the world. Her life heavily revolves around these thoughts, often espousing her beliefs to those around her.

Error Error: Hmm, who is she? This activist. She's just having fun. What, she's teenaging, waaaa?!

File Reset

File 2: Boxer, she loves a party, not the whole beer drugs bazoomba, but hanging with people, talking about songs, life, shows, celebrities. Gotta love the Queen B. Interesting. Much was missed before. Is she, does she, what is her dream? Questions.

Your head may have (2) wet willies. Oh, shoot! Reset Reset!

File 3: Boxer, you seem multi-faceted. That shouldn't be a surprise, I guess I was taken in so strongly by your thoughts. Your passion. It made whatever you did seem to be your entire world. No no, you, I don't need another bash, I think I know better. You're a person. A person with moral beliefs, who will and does stand up for what is right. Maybe it was stupid, safety-wise, but goddammit you were brave for yelling at those drunk kids using the n-word. They were awful. And then you jam out, cause your pretty swell there too.

File 99999999....: I'm going to run out of room! So hopefully one day I get it right. But today, I'm sure I am wrong about a lot of things, and a lot more head whackings will occur, but I can only be glad about that, because each reset has brought additional goodness, to an already great character.