100 Love Letters I'll Never Send ("This World Is Ours.") (C) 2018

…and here it is. Yet again, I’m thinking of you. So many things I did wrong. I can make up for it now, “My living amends,” I whisper to myself. Carmelita fell asleep in my arms. We’ve been back for about a week. It’s 1 am in the morning.

I’m remembering again, “Love ain’t enough.” Yesterday, I woke up at 5 am to go back to Labor World. Yet Carmelita told me not to do it. She put that thang on me. She was emotionally feeding me, “We’re a team,” as she gyrated mounting me. “Oh yes, we’re a team,” I agreed moaning and whispering. “The world is ours,” she commanded as I lifted her up and put her on her back. The fears of pregnancy were quickly diminishing. When you feel so empowered nothing can stop you. This world is ours. Whatever deception, or problems, or lies, I have in my head can’t stop us. The American dream would be ours.

She kept the house clean. Therefore, now my thoughts are better. You think a lot clearer with a clean space. We can put our lives in such diseray, as our outside reflects our inside. “This world is ours.”

I went to a Echelon temporary job agency 7 hours later. Dressed in my finest custom made suit. Resume in hand.

The case workers name was Mr. Smith. I could tell I impressed him. He couldn’t get up quick enough to shake my hand.

“Mr. ________, this is a very impressive resume. Working at Waste World shows that you’ll do whatever it takes to get a head. Most people would go without job thinking it was beneath them. It’s a hard time we’re living in. It takes moxy to get ahead. So tell me more.” With that I was so smooth we reversed roles. Felt like I was interviewing him for the best job as he quickly typed on his computer.

5 minutes later, “Mr. _______, I have the perfect fit for you. It’s starter level where you used to work.”

“Really?”

“Morningside Investments…”

“I’ll take it.”

“Excellent. Report there at 7:45 am tomorrow to the first floor. Asks the security guard for a Mr. Hyde.”