The Late Bloomer: A Dahlia

A man in a “Salvador Dali for President” shirt walked along the shore at Venice Beach. He was turning 40 years old next year. His childhood was like a pleasant dream. His teenage years were one constant party. His twenties were chaos. His thirties were a return to normalcy. What would his forties be like? He certainly needed more capital and stability. More property. A more secure occupation. Not just because he is a “sellout,” but because being a starving artist is overrated.
        He didn’t want to die alone anymore. He was no longer indifferent. He wanted a chance to have a wife, kids, and responsibilities. It wasn’t all a waste, though: the man in a “Salvador Dali for President” shirt had learned a lot from the various punching bags and piñatas of life. He was a late bloomer but damn it he was a special kind: a dahlia, even.