tall gaunt older man marches down morrison street, gray sandpaper skin, sagging toward skull, spits obscene syllables between puffs, ears black budded. i cannot hear inside here where i sit but i can see the music throb him in his downy black jacket, soaked shiny, capped & hooded but umbrellaless, as he continues on, puffing downhill, giving not a single fuck to the morning rain.
No comments:
Post a Comment