He walked down sidewalks on the left side

carrying that stupid umbrella, it was his signature piece against the grain sliding in between days a cure for the mundane stroll to get vegetables and an energy drink before retiring to his one bedroom apartment where fantasies lived out with red shut eyes barely stirring until the coughing and movements of early bird neighbors gave way to sunlight. it wasn’t until i broke in one day that i found out about his levi collection and love of ovaltine. i didn’t take anything, just some wonderings why would i care so much. what about him angered me as i slid dogs into buns for tourists and suits. tin foil wrap grip sliding through my greasy dollar transaction hands, steam vents reminding me, i’m alone. when’s his birthday? who loves him? does he see me? who does he caress and undress in his mind when time permits a sensitive topic for him to pit against the pendulum of time we may never meet unless i stop him with my chemical meat and ask him for something that he may not have a moment to answer, the questions of a stranger loving him from a distance. i’m envious of that waltz and the paisley patterns that adorn his glance and if he dances could i lead? a mystery left, there are more corner store brats to feed.