Thursday, March 23, 2017


Stalwart fellow, I think I knew him
well. Kent or Kentish, nationality,
but it never made sense nor mattered.
I wasn't Shakespeare and he wasn't my
Falstaff. Anyway, he somehow had 
two mothers and they'd produced him
three sisters between. So I had no
intentions of leaving.
But, we left on good terms, as it were :  he
only cursed me twice and I said nothing. 
I've never much had the character for that
stuff  - I remember being stuck, a hundred
times at least  -  amidst people I couldn't
understand and they couldn't understand
me. Or wouldn't.
To my mind, it was like the guy who invented
the mirror. I mean, holy smokes, what did he
think? All of a sudden he could see himself,
AND what was behind him. Unbeknownst to 
him? All this time a blindness? Man that
must have freaked him out.
I went through that all myself  -  never able
really to handle anything, mostly because I
wasn't here or couldn't care. My work was
elsewhere. People had to talk to me, talk me
down, sit me at tables and sputter. I didn't
know a thing. Still don't. Sometimes I
think I just wasn't made for this world.
So, anyway, back to this Kentish guy : 
Got to know him, enjoyed my time,
began hanging around with one of 
those sisters, and, all this time later, 
here I still am. A top-hat,
without a head.

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