“That’s how it all gets out, kid.”


“I said, that’s how it all gets out. You know?
The scum of life,
that’s how you get it out.”

“How do you know?”

“My son of a bitch father taught me,
well before I was a twenty-something drunk prick
like you.”

“And you hated him, but you still adopted that methodology?”

“He was a drunk bastard but he was just as human as you or me.”

“so tell me.”

“Ok you little shit…
He would beat me in the bathroom until I saw stars.
It’s really that simple.
He thought he could
knock the imperfections out of me,
what imperfections he seemed to see.
Over time
all things paled
everything became soft
nothing could hurt anymore.”

“So that’s the solution then?
take on so much pain that nothing feels like anything?”

“No. You don’t get it kid.”

“Help me get it.”

“I was an old car,
dusty and slightly rusted from birth,
everything I did was old already,
but parents,
older generations,
they don’t like to see that.
So they take the car that they bought,
the one that reminds them of old times;
they take their babies,
the ones that remind them of who they used to be,
and they buff the age out of them
wax on,
wax off,
and the car is all shiny and new,
the kids are all raw and wet and
fresh out of the bath.
and that’s the way that
they think it needs to be.”

“Does it need to be like that?”

“Not necessarily.
But fighting it only perpetuates it further.”

“It needs to be buffed out.”

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