Sleeping Man

Over in the distance, can you see? The radiating young gentleman carrying his quip proudly under one arm, armed to tackle and brave not to fault in faculty, everyone sees him and he seldom looks. Too cool to share his vision or just not enough back draft to confine his excellent trench coat sifting softly from the wind. His black tinted cool cut wayfarer shades aid his ability to appear nonchalant. Wearing boots to the knee, bandanna and tee which totals the magnitude of his fashionable gravity, so much so that even a broken braked out of control car would stop before him. Bolting past a dog free from its chain, with owner in tail, hes pushing all the passers by out on their heels, he probably didn’t see the deals of the week. Hung purposefully at eye line by the commerce of a corporate conundrum. As prices aren’t real obviously, just a dubious famine of not much more to do than chew the faces off individuals with either too much to spend or not enough to contemplate it.

Not to digress. The day breaks at his feet, and he knows it, the night wouldn’t come if he commanded the fleeting violet sky to cease in its tracks. He begins to walk, mind open and lit cigarette toking, hes emanating a peaceful aura. Not a quarrel or qualm to upset his coquettish grin, his chin a chiseled masterpiece, only a knighting sword might improve his optimistic bask. For in elegance he aligns niceness with convincing pleasant interaction, so genuinely bright you’d feel guilty for realizing he’s a product of his own security. Then again if you had never been made to feel imperfect you would also view the world with no liability, accountability or even culpability. Yep, he was a heart-breaker. Only, he wasn’t entirely human.

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