The Man on The Scooter

Here’s something I thought word by word on my way to college. Surprising how I still remember it after 10 hours.

 

He was shouting at the wind

Stretching his jaws

and gnashing them, violently.

 

One hand on the handlebar

of his scooter, the other

dancing as he used it

as punctuation.

Patting the air,

fingers splayed,

then pointing,

then smoothing the air 

down in languorous motions.

 

I was parallel to him.

In another vehicle.

Separated by metal, and tar

and gravel, paint.

In another world.

 

He did not notice me

while I wrote about him

in my head. And in all

his movements, I did not notice

his headphones.

 

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3 Replies to “The Man on The Scooter”

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