This Is the Part Where I Tell You Something You Didn’t Know
Ethan Bernard

A guy walking by on the street tells me I carry my meaning in my pocket. Next to my wallet? No, he says, up in the front on the right. You have X-ray vision? I ask. He shakes his head. That’s the place you wear your energy, man. I stop. Weird, you know, because I’m left-handed and I can’t think of anything I carry next to my meaning other than lint. The pocket is pretty small, though, and I guess meaning needs space or something. I start again, on to the place where I’m going, but can feel the meaning getting heavier until I’m walking lopsided. Oh, I rummage and find a chewing gum wrapper that still smells like spearmint. I shake the wrapper in my right hand and wheel around, ready to tell that guy what he is carrying. But he’s moved on. It’s a big city. I want to wear my energy on the outside.

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