what i noticed 

what i noticed

there's a man with a hatchet face, even though he's a vegan. he's got a radio playing paul simon, and in his hand is a flower, and the flower is dead, but that's not his fault, he found it that way. in his hat is a feather. the feather points his way to heaven, and his nose points his way to me, and he always follows his nose. his shoes point towards each other; when he was young his mother was
advised to brace his legs, and although he braces himself for everything else, his mother had too much to think about at the time, and so at least his toes want to be together. they are friendly that way. sometimes this makes him stumble, which he views as a metaphor, because secretly he'd like to be a poet, but the truth is he works with numbers, because he'd really really like to believe in truth, and with numbers everything should work out in the end. when he gets here i am going to tell him a story, and each of you will be in it, disguised as equations so as not to alarm him, and he will grow all dreamy like, like i do when we are together, and figure things out.