Thursday, 10-23-14
Waiting is what I watch him do.
Everyday he's there. No matter how sick, tired, sad he looks, he's there. Waiting at the same corner every day. And the only reason I watch him is because he stares directly at me. Because I'm on the sidewalk across, staring right back. And we stare at each other. Everyday. I don't know what he's waiting for. Maybe for me to talk to him.
I've stopped waiting for something to happen as his downturned eyes bore into my soul. Dark cresents hold up hazeled swarms of brown and some other colors too. I've stared so much I know the angle of the sun that makes a ring of green outline them. Often it happens. The sun hitting his face. Trying to cheer up the frown that rests under a slim nose. I wont lie, it gives his dark skin a pretty contrast.
As I wait, he stares. And as he waits, I stare. Maybe I'm delusional, but I've seen just how he stares. Theres always a scowl on his face when he leaves, always a scowl on his face as he gets there. And theres a scowl on mine to. Scrooge-ish.
But he's cool, I guess.
I don't remember the last time I've done something at 3 AM besides staring.
