Men in the Margins

He shuffled with hair the length of his body, a matted braid
gnarled like a tree branch; a gnome like man, more naked than
clothed; a homeless Buddha.

A blue blazer and small instrument case, he moved with obsessed
purpose to nowhere in particular. Threadbare pants betrayed his
secret. A vapor, he appeared and disappeared on the streets.

A lean body with defined muscles, barefoot, he moved with a peculiar
gate, tiptoeing on imagined crystals. The man with X-ray eyes
stumbled amongst us.

Gone now, but they exist as morsels of memories in the minds of
reluctant witnesses.

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