No Book Ever Has A Good Enough Cover

i walk by tucker every day at least once. he's the guard who sits outside our office. he's friendly, tall, black, muscular, always smiling, and his head nods up and down when he says good morning.

"hey tucker! good morning!"
"all right, all right. how's it going?"

we make some small talk about our weekends. he's going to jersey, his neices are coming over, he's got a ball game.

but this morning it was different. tucker asked if i ever saw def poetry jam - yes i did, last season - he writes poetry; do i write - yes, i do, but not poetry - oh, he also does spoken word - i've only gotten behind a mic once - well, let him read something for me that he wrote this morning.

tucker pulled out a scrappy peice of yellow legal paper with scribbles on the front and the back, leaned over the desk and took a deep breath. he then proceeded to read, with perfect elegance, an articulate and beautifully written poem about the pain of letting someone go when you know it's the right thing to do, even though your heart doesn't agree. he spoke with an eloquent cadence, terrific poise, and a command of his words and emotions.

i was totally amazed. i closed my eyes as he read and listened to his perfect word choice. i knew exactly how he felt. i was right there with him. it was incredible. he has an amazing talent and i'm so glad i know this side of him now. just imagine how many people don't.

i love it when life suprises me.