She's Like Ali

   
   "She's Like Ali"
   
   Took Mom out in the sunshine all day, or I could say:  "Placed her underneath the illuminating torch of a daystar feeding Vitamin D."  Regardless, an hour and a half of muted sunlight; plus, one puff on an American Spirit cigarette, organic, and yes it helps Ulcerative Colitis--so there.  I gotta pick my poisons too.
   Got video.  Stoic, at home, and with a dog to pet, here and there.  Just sitting in a chair and relaxing, dealing with the deck she's been dealt--not complaining or having an agenda, like we do--yes, we, Mr. Agenda.
   Just take one day at a time as Christ commanded, for tomorrow has its own troubles.  What else is there, but a place to chill and not be frightened?  Big Daddy is in the video too, along with the wily dog.  Like Ali and Saint Pope John Paul the 2nd--this woman should inspire potent and vigorous hope.  Bravely enduring, and perpetually.  Pittsburgh Steel, suffering next to Christ, gallantly.  

Indigo Samson (7)

   
   "Indigo Samson (7)"
   
   Samson didn't have wheels; thus, he would have to ask his father to borrow the Audi; otherwise, use the car he regularly drove--Mom's mini-van, which would paint him further some rejected weirdo; however, weird does play on some stages, and yet Samson desired the turbo-charged muscle of his father's Audi, just to peel out for Maxie.  Every guy has got to peel out, at least once.
   His father was going old school, paging through, yes, an actual newspaper, and knew what a transistor radio was; anyway, Samson asked to intercede within his father's cerebral absorption of print media; next, probed:  "Dad, can I borrow the car; I got a date with a nice Catholic girl?"
   His father responded:  "Only if you get a haircut.  A man's haircut."
   Samson would take the mini-van.  What the hell.  It smelled better inside anyway, his mother's perfume and fragrance more charming.  

Indigo Samson (6)

   
   "Indigo Samson (6)"
   
   Their lockers, a few doors down, the bell rings, and the teens go scurrying like salmon upstream; however, Maxie and Samson are glued to the astonishment of being anchored before one another, fixated upon the soul-fire glow of each others' eyes.

MAXIE
I'm Maxie.  I'm Irish Catholic.  Well, I guess everybody in this school knows that.  I really like football as well.  Bit her bottom lip, hating to sound like a dork.  

SAMSON
Was calm and cool.  Glad and humbled she made the first exchange.  I know you, kinda.  Like your hair too.  A bluish tint to that jet black pixie cut.  And with the green fire of a jungle in your effulgent eyes.

MAXIE
Ecstatic that he was giving her compliments.  Didn't know how to play it.  Blushed; next, became herself.  I thought I was a voice crying in the wilderness.  That you wouldn't hear me.

SAMSON
I hear the vibes of oppression, and you are my people.  Want a date?  Pizza is always good.  They got that new place, JABBA THE HUTT'S PIE WAGON.

MAXIE
Oh, I love the PIE WAGON.  It's like you're reading my mind.

SAMSON
Not totally.  Just have enchanted empathy.  Something lost by most in this world. 

Indigo Samson (5)

   
   "Indigo Samson (5)"
   
   Samson Landon figured it out.  He had long hair; on the flip side, Maxie had a pixie cut.  He played on the football team, but had no social existence, and she went to Mass and was labeled a circus person.  Both different, yet similar.  Both rejected.
   He heard the snickers behind his back, and hers.  Incapable, weak, fag, zealot, weirdo, and one time--too fast for love, for those that remember hair bands in the 80's, and Samson did; he was old school.  For Heaven's Adoration--his mother named him after, well, do you know the story, and how they tried to bind him?  But the ropes melted off like wax.  Yes, he was just fixated.  Fixated upon something else nobody could see.  He wasn't psychotic.  Just didn't have his head in his cell phone every five seconds; plus, he listened to a transistor radio.  He knew as well--Maxie was much the same.  In love with God.  There was no denying the existence of God--for either of them.  That's why he was going to talk to her, after all this time.  Leave the door open, always.  

A Strong B

   
   "A Strong B"

   Was just hoping:  A Strong B.  Never give up, like Winston during WW2.  Talk and nourish them to the end.  Not blaming; on the contrary, I'm just stating axiomatic behavior of those programmed, metaphorically, into always seeing death and never Christ.  Christ died, yet His Light was too bright to inhabit Hades--they kicked Him out for selling electricity.  He was Almighty Illumination, outshining the darkness of it all.  Saint John:  "The light cometh, and the darkness comprehends it not."
   Just don't talk negative about the patient.  I'm a flawed and emotional man; still, I have total empathy for the rejected.  The nerd that never gets to drink a beer with the guys might invent some weird solution and guzzle it.  I have family members like Chet in WEIRD SCIENCE.  Get over yourself, I've never been lazy--this is the proof beyond reproach.
   Yet I've looked at big tits.  Even a guy's ass once, by accident.  Imagined the girl naked behind the counter, her checking out my groceries.  But I never do anything about it.  
   Was just expecting a strong B.  A level of studying the positive concerning death, and taking everyone sweetly into eternal solace and sanctuary from this shitty world.  
   God Bless you all.  But God Bless the defenseless too.  Everybody should get, at least, a strong B when facing death--look it right in the eyes, fella.  

Indigo Sampson (4)

   
   "Indigo Sampson (4)"
   
   Maxie McClaine was an Irish Catholic, a little weepy on Tuesdays, feeling like she was suffering the Sorrowful Mysteries with Christ as the Rosary took her to His Passion.  She was the girl with the pixie cut that Samson Landon adored.  She had mysterious forest-green eyes; moreover, the short shock of a Tom Cruise haircut, and on such a kitten.  Was not a weird girl; specifically, at school she was labelled as a Church Person.  One of them wackos that goes to Mass and believes a little cracker is the Actual Body of God.  Tells a Priest about her private thoughts, him being her diary and journal, her therapy; plus, she did like and long for the long-haired dude dubbed Samson Landon.  That maverick football player.  All bundled up in his father's money, but the dude was brave, putting himself on the field of play and allowing the chance of rough touch, for the sheer elation, and to get in touch with his masculine side.  Nothing spells MAN like football.  
   So Maxie waited by her locker, knowing Samson's was only a few doors down.  She would talk to him today.  She would give him a compliment--go fishing, and hope he bites.  Not harassment, just the free speech of:  "Nice pecs guy."  Is that unlawful to voice?  She remembered the stories her mother told her of America.  When it seemed more free, and less squandered on acceptance.  Her mother once telling her:  "We watched DUKES OF HAZARD, just once--and decided we'd rather listen to the radio and chain smoke in our house.  It was always delightful."  

Indigo Samson (3)

   
   "Indigo Samson (3)"
   
   Samson Landon goes into a shrink's office; next, the shrink shows him ink blots--weak.  Ever hear of transcending theories, now unleashed upon the public; thus, the increase of anti-anxiety and anti-psychotic medication; plus, the more inhalation of firearms, out of fear--as Yoda said:  "Your weapons--you will not need them."  Get a grip; moreover, don't have a bird.  

DOC
Young man Samson, and don't you look it--wiry and adoring.

SAMPSON
Gotta have the flavor, resisting not evil, and saying a decent OUR FATHER--you know why?  For I forgive them theirs, as they are snakes, and it's their job to kill me.  I watched Beverly Hills Cop, and I really liked it.  California.  Mercedes Benz.  Too, a little of Jim Rockford thrown in.  But he didn't have the mustache like Magnum.