He stood on one side of the street, I on the other. He had holes in his dirty blue jeans, as well as in his arms and he didn’t try to cover them up. He had no fear of judgment, not even a scintilla of shame.  His smile was lupine, ravenous, and I instantly compared him to a wolf and I will also admit it scared me. There this stranger stood, there this shadow stood in his maddened midnight existence there I stood wondering when the rain would cease. Cars filled with people who really didn’t care about anything were rushing by in a constant flow on this one way street. It was dark enough to be dangerous, and light enough to see the way the clouds were, and by this, have a dark heart utterly enchanted by the way those clouds took on a more ominous look. Swirling up and around in the sky  in these light grey, grey, dark grey and black swirling shades of oblivion. 

And so I turned from my original destination in mind, to a new one, one that didn’t exist because I didn’t want to think about it. Well, I really didn’t feel like thinking in general. I glanced over my shoulder to find my mystery gone, a shadow succumbed to light. Yet, there he stood on my side of the street, but he wasn’t really there, if he were I would see him. Right? Actually, no.

So I turned again and continued on in my rainy day dance across the town I loved so much. I loved the faces of people I didn’t know because their eyes told personal stories of their past, of their current, of their future. I was sad to come across one who’d be a handsome corpse tonight, his eyes were so very sad. I focused my attention on the leap frog imitation of my puddle treading footsteps. He was there. He wasn’t. I felt his presence, but could not see even one shred of torn clothing, not one needle-hole in the skin, not one scar, no tattoo, just air. Just backgrounds rushing by, blurring by. 

I turned the corner to find that he wasn’t the only one dead. I saw impeccable beauty portrayed in large, over-the-jean, tattooed beauties who received nothing more than dirty looks and harsh words whispered in low breathing and over-the-shoulder look backs. I found handsome men with permanent necklaces, the children had no eyes and their mothers wore too much make-up to cover up the death-causing bruises delivered by their living husbands who now sauntered down the street with 20 year younger girls.