He resisted the urge to spit on him
even as the bile hid behind his
teeth waiting to be hurled
across the void,
landing smack dab in the middle of
his face.
He watched him as he continued his
rant of inexplicable musings and
beliefs.
They were going to move us all,
he said,
to a new building out near
Rouen....
They had already purchased the land
near the new airport,
and were waiting to corral the
whole city's correspondence
to one building,
miles away from where it belonged.
He looked closely at the idiot
and saw a lack of colour in his eyes,
blank, dull empty, black nearer to gray
and back again,
he continued to spout
hands in his pockets and the
gayest pair of socks he had
ever seen.
He asked him one day if he
had, perhaps,
taken his wife's socks by
mistake.
He was greeted with great
offence,
and then informed that they were
special men's socks,
specially made to be worn with shorts
and running shoes.
He chuckled to himself, imagining
the idea that this chucklehead
dressed every morning with
the idea that he was somehow
making a fashion statement.
He listened for another minute,
then threw his cigarette
on the pile,
and started pushing the rock
back up the hill again.
MCC
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