I was sitting here goofing off and putzing around at the public library when a man came up to me. He was tall, straggly, and unshaven with dark stubble, wearing a baseball cap and a brown bomber jacket.
He pressed a stack of torn-off notebook pages into my hand, saying “Here… keep it or pass it on”, grinning widely at me with a rickety toothsome smile, and went off.
O… kay. Expecting it to be some kind of random witness gesture I opened up the papers, and read: the following.
He’s hovering around in the background as I write this; I chatted with a little bit. He’s nice, soft-spoken, very calm and intelligent. He’s interested in Pagan and Wiccan rites, and took a year of English at university. He wrote the poem while he was in jail (he wouldn’t say for what or when).
Heh.