-^-for posterity-^-

the hippy man.

he sits on the side of the road and sticks out like a sour thumb. he wears two or three hats, has a long graying beard and stringy hair that hangs over his shoulders. he doesn’t wear shoes but his feet have built up a kind of callous around them that serves the same purpose. his shirt is unbuttoned half way down his chest and he has red soars on his chest. he drinks a lot of rice wine which he holds in a clear plastic bag. he sits and stares at everything going on around him. his eyes are different. he looks observant and strangely wise. he looks like he has figured something out about the world but he sure isn’t going to tell anyone.

he looks so strange that we wave to him a lot. it just feels like something you should do to someone you see every other day. he normally doesn’t react to us and continues to drink his rice wine and slouch on the side of the road.

today we were having coffee at our normal coffee shop and, for some reason, the man came up to us and decided to talk. the first think i noticed were his teeth which had rotted through. they were nothing but black stubs inside of his mouth. he had something in his hand and i asked if it was rice wine. he said it wasn’t rice wine because today he didn’t feel well. today he was only drinking lemonade. he raised the bag and asked us if we would like some. it looked harmless but we declined. he spoke quickly and very sharply. his eyes darted around our table searching for something. after a few cursory comments he left. he didn’t smile, but i’ve yet to see him.

we drove back home and he had returned to sitting by the side of the road in the sun with his hats on. i smiled and nodded my head respectfully. he started at me, his eyes trying to say something.