Sunday, June 06, 2021

Called It?

There's an old, thin, semi-toothless guy who sits on the steps of the pizza parlor every morning.

He talks to his handheld radio sometimes, and other times he talks to himself, and sometimes he talks to me or whoever is walking by.

Today he was silent as I approached on my morning walk to the coffee shop. Then, he suddenly looked right at me and spoke. "Your Pandora's Box, baby."

Or maybe it was "You're Pandora's box, baby." 


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