He pilots his rake like it’s made of peanut brittle. The
movements are slow and delicate so it will not shatter. As each pedestrian approaches his effort
slows to a complete stop. He is not in their way nor are they in his.
He is ready with his peanut brittle welcoming. His words are
slow and delicate. If his greeting were to go unanswered, or worse yet ignored,
his words would be smashed at their feet. They would be ashamed to watch him
clean up the word-brittle pile.
The day’s raking is over. He takes his peanut brittle life
to his peanut brittle shack and recounts the day’s conversations. In his sleeping, he dreams and his sleeping
smile is slow and delicate. There were no piles of ‘Hello’s” to clean up today.