today,
i watched a fight unravel between whisky-sodden tramps. men of age high on substance, readying a war to make good on bread they’d easily trade for another joint. what great show for idle eyes, “let them go at it,” a sturdy guy hollered adjusting his taqiyah with a grin. still, we watched.
then, time froze hitherto, chaos besides me for eyes brown of one man, tall and poised with speech so gentle to an elderly lady. unreal, a lost soul trying to find his way; stranger, to the loud, crowded, scum-filled streets. i must’ve day-dreamed for a second on what-if he’d stopped me¿ but he was long gone when i came to myself, away from the escalated shoves and grumblings of the aforesaid discontent men. bummed. rest in peace fairytale, maybe in another lifetime.
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