I’ve been writing a lot of poetry as of late. Most of it deals with the past. People from my past, specifically. Some of it drips with pain. Some of it functions to capture those pleasant moments I’d prefer not to forget.

Friendship is a ubiquitous thing. Even when we’d prefer not to see it as such.

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my deepest apologies

Mr. Bates was my high school ‘Phys-Ed’ teacher. At least a couple of times a week, right at the beginning of class, he’d make us run. I did not look forward to beginning my favourite class in this manner. Frankly, I would have preferred an extra twenty minutes of volleyball, basketball, racquetball, or whatever else we happened to be doing.

To be fair, Mr. Bates provided us with a min and max distance and was cool about letting us choose how far we wished to run. He even ran with us. (What a guy!) What was unfortunate about this situation is that we ran the same route, over and over again. Now, Acme was a lovely town to grow up in, just not in the “scenic” sense of the word. As such, running after Mr. Bates was not my favourite past-time. (He was fast for an old(er) guy. What can I say?) Being the resourceful teenager that I was, I found ways to circumvent my problem.

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