Junk

JUNK?

Alone at thirteen, in a seemingly uncaring, and violent world, the streets gave me no friends or toys.
My life changed … it was the month of a bitter cold November, on Friday the 13. I remember this because I discovered a treasure wrapped in a newspaper. The headlines of the paper said something about a canal.
The treasure, discarded like a piece of junk along with a half-eaten hot dog, which I devoured on the spot. The ketchup smeared over my dirty fingers... I licked it off like icing on a cake.
I retreated to my secret space, recovering my treasure at every chance I could.
The treasure taught me things that I only had dreamed about. So, I did … more and more. I dreamed.
I found other treasures—, I secreted them to my lair …, and like the father I never had, it gave me advice.
Winter came and went. I survived only by the city sewers, and the fire blazing in my mind.
It is now thirty-two years later.
Looking up from my desk, I look to the right and the left— swiveling my chair facing the rear wall, displaying numerous, collected treasures. The most coveted are the ones discarded as junk so long ago.
My books my savior of sanity, and life … discarded as junk.
I read, I imagined, and I acted aggressively with vigor!