Soul of a Shoplifter

"There once was a girl from Nantucket..."

There are those who get paid to write poetry, and those who should get paid to NOT write poetry. I fall into the latter category. You can thank me in advance for not filling this space with the versification of my feckless soul.

I have always liked to say that I have the soul of a shoplifter. And, then someone asked me "WHY do you say that you have the soul of a shoplifter?"

I had to stop and think. It might be because it seems a little sassy. Or it might be that I enjoy the way that it sounds like it has been lifted from a corny movie script:

"Of all the shipyards in all the world, she hadda walk into mine. She was tougher than a leather grommet and laced with twice as much trouble. She stacked the deck faster than a twelve-fingered card shark and possessed the soul of a shoplifter. I knew it. God knew it. All the angels in heaven knew it. But, even then I wanted to believe she could be redeemed."

The serious answer, however, fits within the framework of Aristotle's friendship definitions. Relationships formed solely for pleasure or utility allow you to slip little pieces of a person into your pocket--like a shoplifter thieving his way through the department store of life. We take what we want to get what we need and leave the rest. I have always been good at those types of relationships. And, I think that is what I really mean when I say I have such a soul.