Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Old man shoes.

A couple days back, I was out and about sometime around that noontime hour, having just swallowed a sub whole during my lunch (20 minutes eating, 40 basking in the outdoors daydreaming), when, out of the corner of my eye, I spied some old man at his own table. He was wearing a fairly smart fedora, had suspenders on to keep those slacks up and, for as nicely as he'd gone about dressing himself for this warm afternoon, he'd opted to skip out on the socks. He caught my glance, too, as he was largely doing what I'd been doing: people watching, observing the occasional mating lovebug, delving deep down inside any and all thoughts that might happen on by. We recognized some glimmer of familiarity in the other, even for a slightest part of a second. It was like he dared me to look longer than that and I had to look away. As I walked back to my parked car, he picked up a newspaper and went about giving it his full attention.

For a moment that day, I was that man. And he was kind enough to show me my future. 

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