Yesterday I went to Starbucks, I watched a deep red headed guy with hair down to the middle of his back, full beard and mustache, maybe 30, dressed in converse, cut off blue shorts and a tshirt. He was muscular but had this feminine quality about him. I don't even know why I just thought that... Anyway. He was walking a pit bull in the grass behind water burger. I was pulled to him. My eyes. I watched him walk back towards Starbucks he was careful to keep the pit bull up to him. Making sure she followed him. I don't know if it was a girl dog, but I feel it was. She was about a year old, and she stayed right at his feet. She had no collar or leash. They were both free. I know a free spirit when I come across one. And I'm always drawn to them. When I leave Starbucks and pull passed the front of the building, at the tables sits a group of them 30 something group of free spirits. My soul longed to join them. Like I see a free spirit and I long to join them. As if I belong there. In freedom. Or have been there. I promise you that they haven't paid taxes. I knew they most likely didn't have drivers licenses. I could tell the way the guy had walked the dog back to the group that he was nervous about be in the open center of nothing like someone was fixing to scream at him to get off the lot. Or that he wasn't in his group. It felt more like the guy that really is not a bad human, but because of his freedom of spirit he gets lashed out at by society.
I went on to Walmart with out another thought of the free spirits sitting so close to me that I can smell and feel the freedom.
As I was leaving, a Rv catches my attention. It was a old school big one sitting long ways right in the damn way. It had its lil engine box pulled out. I felt sorry for it then, it obviously had cruised in and had to stop right there. I could have gone around and drove away, but I just felt pulled to drive around it. And there next to the Rv was a small homemade looking box trailer. And a old gal of about 50 with big blonde wavy hair like she stuck her finger in a light socket, a lady I used to know, told me she felt rode hard and put up wet, and that saying is a good way to describe this woman. Another tacky way to say it but it will allow you a visual image, is crack whore. I felt for her tho. She was stuck with the stuff. While, who ever went to get parts for the Rv and most likely my band of free spirits, sittin up at Starbucks enjoyed the stop. These people were gypsies. And gypsies feel like my people. I could get in that Rv and be just freaking amazing. Going where ever the wind blew us with a group of people that I call family that may or may not be blood. I honestly didn't even think of these people again and I don't even know why I started telling this story. But if there is reincarnation and I personally believe there is, I had to of been a gypsy. I still follow my spirit where ever she takes me. And I still don't follow the rules. And I still have a band of people that aren't blood related and that are, that I would lay down my life for. I live both ways. In society and in my freedom. That is a beautiful revelation about myself. I'm true to me but I'm able to still be apart of anything. I bring my self to the table and I bring food too.
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