more scars

i was probably five or six when i found myself dangling from that rusty chain-link fence. in retrospect, i don't remember much about my fascination with climbing all the fences in the neighborhood, and with all the dogs and yards they enclosed. but for a summer or two, it became somewhat of an obsession. as soon as i realized that i could climb those fences, my horizons expanded almost infinitely in my mind.

but freedom comes with its costs, and these fences would not yield to me without attempting to take their pound of flesh. it is safe to say that karma was not on my mind as i hung there for those few surprising seconds, all my weight dangling from the part of my mid fore-arm that had caught on a barb at the top of a neighbor's fence.

what i remember most was the blood after i released myself. it spurted along with the rhythm of my quick heart. i was immediately sure that i had killed myself. but, the fountains of blood actually fascinated me, didn't cause me to panic or be sick. and, in a very immature and naive little boy way, i was proud of myself, as if to say: "bring 'em on" or "is that all?".

even though i was ordered never to climb that rusty fence again, i knew that i would. . .