Burgers & Rain

I had a memory earlier.

Around eight years ago, I was outside The Jazz Cafe on Parkway in the small hours of the morning. It was raining and I was alone – my friends were inside the club and I was considering leaving without saying goodbye. I was smoking a rollup and I felt sad. I think I was on the verge of tears. I was always on the verge of tears back then.

A drunk old tramp stumbled over to me and said,

“Burgers don’t always have to go inside buns, ya’know.”

I said, “Really?”

and he replied, “Yeah. And you’ll do well to remember that.”

I told him I’d try and he said that one day I would understand.

Well, friend, today is that day. I get it. I understand. Never has a truer word been spoken. Burgers don’t have to go inside buns. Fuckin’ A.

I wonder if that man is still alive. I have a feeling that he’s not. So I’m going to spread his words of wisdom where and when I can, on his behalf, beginning here on wordpress. Hopefully one day you, too, will understand.




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