Coffee, The Internet, and a Pair of Manolo Blahnik’s; Is there Anything Better?

A man with his chin so bent on getting where he is going, the very act of steering his car falls behind the plane of his perception. Speed and consideration of others are of no concern to him, only getting what he wants as soon as possible, at all costs.

A woman talks in silent screams as the two thousand pounds of speeding death hurls past children. In her mind slightly more important then the mascara she is trying to apply while looking in the rear view mirror, is the conversation with her friend, a tennis match exchange of words regarding last nights ridiculous excuse for a date, keeping the car straight steering with her knee tends to be a skill she wishes she could add to a resume.

Truck drivers half asleep, pushing exhaustion past the veils of half closed eyes, caffeine jolts to slap their tired cheeks. Thinking of anything, nothing, dreaming of times removed from the never ending blur of the roads vibrations. They have no idea the deadly force that rests just below every slumbering nod.

Overworked and under appreciated police officers, who only receive as accolade for a life risked, protecting the unknowing violator of yet another law designed for one purpose and that is to protect their very lives, the hard working police take on their chin the verbal abuse, or ridicule as she politely hands the ticket through the window. How many have said goodbye for the last time innocent children with a kiss in the morning just to be met with life last breath at the end of a gun only hours later.

A homeless man with another sign, another hand reaching for some mercy, some relief to the burden that weighs deep within his stomach. Seemingly invisible to the majority of people who pass by each day, funny how people will perform as if they don’t see Me, yet the very act of turning away throws out a perpetual blow to His heart; “They look away, obviously and revoltingly like I suffer from leprosy.” “Can they not even give a smile?”

How many homes do I pass on my way to my favorite coffee shop in the morning, how many shells of unfulfilled dreams peering ou