I don't know what that means?
He wears jeans and t-shirts and smiles a lot. That's all I know. No, I don't know him and he doesn't know me. At least, I don't think he knows me. Hell, I don't even know the shape of his face, all I see is his butt in jeans covered by a threadbare t-shirt. Yeah, and his hair, I see his hair covering his neck. The strands of his hair are always thick with days, but he must bathe. He must.
No, I don't know him and I don't think you do, either. It's possible that no one knows him, but someone must, since that is more possible, someone knowing him, they must.
If I don't know his face, how can I know he smiles, you ask? I just know he smiles. I can feel him smiling, always smiling in his Chuck Taylor's. He's always wearing those shoes and smiling, even when it's raining and he's not wearing a coat, he's smiling in his t-shirt, jeans and Chuck Taylor's.
That's why I refer to him as Chuck. Yes, I know you're the first person I've told about him, but I recite his name when I think of him or see him. Yes, Chuck is the name I gave him, but he doesn't know that I named him Chuck and he might not like it if he did know that I named him Chuck. No, I've never told anyone, just myself and you. Yes, I love him. Of course.
Chuck doesn't wear socks, either. He's silly, isn't he?
He wears jeans and t-shirts and smiles a lot. That's all I know. No, I don't know him and he doesn't know me. At least, I don't think he knows me. Hell, I don't even know the shape of his face, all I see is his butt in jeans covered by a threadbare t-shirt. Yeah, and his hair, I see his hair covering his neck. The strands of his hair are always thick with days, but he must bathe. He must.
No, I don't know him and I don't think you do, either. It's possible that no one knows him, but someone must, since that is more possible, someone knowing him, they must.
If I don't know his face, how can I know he smiles, you ask? I just know he smiles. I can feel him smiling, always smiling in his Chuck Taylor's. He's always wearing those shoes and smiling, even when it's raining and he's not wearing a coat, he's smiling in his t-shirt, jeans and Chuck Taylor's.
That's why I refer to him as Chuck. Yes, I know you're the first person I've told about him, but I recite his name when I think of him or see him. Yes, Chuck is the name I gave him, but he doesn't know that I named him Chuck and he might not like it if he did know that I named him Chuck. No, I've never told anyone, just myself and you. Yes, I love him. Of course.
Chuck doesn't wear socks, either. He's silly, isn't he?
Frank Sauce
- By Jeffrey Bershaw
- from Portland, OR
- I'll try to write as little as possible. I'm a little man with high hopes, pipe dreams and little machines inside that keep me writing.
- More About Frank Sauce
- Painting by Anna Todaro
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