Wednesday, September 04, 2002

Overwhelmed by futility, he walked

Overwhelmed by futility, he walked purposelessly into the narrow street.  Others perceived his torpor and formed a protective sheath around him.  They didn’t want him getting any ideas from anybody - there weren’t enough to go around as it was.  He wondered what ideas felt like, how purpose worked.  The people on the street crowded around him, holding blank sheets of cardboard up in front of their brains.  He couldn’t see through them.  He had no idea.  He sat on the bench and tried to give up.  His hand fell open beside him and eventually a beetle crawled onto it.  He watched the tiny animal’s feelers swaying in the breeze.  He held it up in front of his face to get a better view.  It flew away.  He sighed - unable even to give up, that tiny theoretical defeat beyond his comprehension.  He stood and removed his clothes.  The sun felt good on his back.  They carted him away for indecent exposure and cogitating without a license.  In jail he got to read the cinderblocks.  When they let him out he wasn’t interested anymore.