When I get up to leave
(The real world calls and I must forget my thoughts),
I notice this one man sitting atop a brightly-lit, granite bench, about 5 meters from where I had been sitting.
He is dressed in a green shirt, his hair, threatening to go this way and that,
Grows a few centimeters past his ears,
and there are white streaks all threatening to come askew.
It’s obvious he has made a haphazard attempt at taming his mane.
He does not really look particularly sad, only he does not look happy either. He has skin the color of dark brown eyes on a very very sunny day, and his face looks weathered and wizened. The waiting man has a big belly, and I don’t really know what exactly he is doing so late on a Monday night, sitting on a brightly-lit granite bench, with a small white plastic bag beside him (it has something square and rectangular inside it, and the handles are tied together in a knot). I don't really know what he's doing so late on a Monday night,
No, I just don’t.
