his loudspeaker thinking shot through my eye as he passes me in the crowded room its over-speed thought process painted on his sweating face he fingers loudly the moist pages of his life wishing to replay the better moments but just like everyone else cant relive the moment but you can live in the pain of its regret for the rest of your life if that's what you want he's a follower of the herd he sits with with them and pantomimes their moves with precision
she sits in the exact centre of the same corner each day making notes of the coming and goings and draws the faces the funny faces spiral notebooks full of faces her glasses held together with scotch tape her mind held together with reruns of nineteen seventies sitcoms and heavy medications she is lonely but will never admit it she watches him and wonders
at the days end she convinces him to walk her home and together they set out hand in hand the sky and world around them a tourist picture perfect whitewash he fingers her medicated mind prying out the soft meat looking for the dark stuff that tastes like chicken her misfire engines let him get only so deep before her childhood memories of a beautiful blue dress and a apple pie brings enough reality to his palate to end his fascination
they will end up married because being misfit is better than being alone