A few cells shy of mental incompetence.
"A mediocre copy of another man's genius"
I look at you with your scroll of nonsense, and call you ridiculous.
I call you ridiculous, and smile while I do it.
The street lamps dim as I pass you in uncertain recognition.
Only your smell is familiar to me, the rest of you takes the shape of every other passerby.
The sun could not recover your full image.
You are chinuit de remuscari, and should beg daily for your attrition.
You use fustian clatter to disguise your weak resolve.
All this lost time on every attempt; waisted... needful... redundant.
I look at my watch before I see you fade into darkness.
the time it took me to realize you were no longer in my presence.
~May 19, 2008~