right in

Canada has changed me for the perspective it provides. It is a looking down into the dusk form and pulling up a mirror. My body felt it - tense in my back up through the shoulders and into my skull. I raised the beer to my lips and peered down into it for the froth to reveal more as I parsed the paper for clues and information - advanced metastatic disease, histologic patterns and behavior, nonrandom chromosomal changes such a 6q deletions and translocations involving 8q12 and 12q, etcetera. Each a clue but I lacked the context which is a dangerous venture in patient probing.

I stopped at two beers, reached into my wallet, folded the twenty back and looked for a five and a few singles. The bill was done wrong so I straightened it out with the waitress and left a spot for tip, heading home in the beige dark night on foot. Everything we have here is a fight and a struggle. Help if you want to help, be let down if you want to be let down, jump if you want to jump and don’t expect anything from society except a toll and a grip from the loan officer. There is good too but the good is portioned out in the deeds of individuals and usually against all odds until the inspiration of it gets absorbed into law and debt. The rest is lunacy. And I stand to fight, which the plan had been all along both theirs and mine. Them being the other half, the minority. I fall right in.