WHERE DO YOU GO? (not a rhetorical question)

[Nephew Twiddleton]

Click clack click clack

I pass by everyone else. I'm that asshole in the car that's constantly changing lanes going 95 down I-95.

Except the wheels are my boots, the same ones that I fixed with tacks and a piece that fell off, now in a place where it doesn't belong, so my thin bit of sock isn't the only thing separating my toes from the cement.

Except that I'm walking at a brisk pace.

When I walk alone my pace could be likened to a jog. My shins hurt from the strain, but not as much as they would if I walked at yours.

I stride in between people and mailboxes, and as I pass them, the tail of my long coat slaps their shins to punish them for being so slow.

Click clack click clack

A man taller than me swerves around, fear in his eyes, his posture frozen in indecision between fight and flight, then cautious uncertainty as I shoot him a look that says, "what the fuck spooked you, dude?"

He thought I was on an intercept course.

I am. But not for him.


Sir, your laces are untied.

I know.

Click clack click clack.

He calls after me, well aren't you going to tie them?

No! I'll tie them when I get there!

Where are you going in such a hurry?

Fucked if I know. I'll know it when I see it. All I know is that I'm late.

Click clack click clack.

I'll tie them when I get there.



I've been going nowhere slow for so long, I have to get somewhere fast 15 minutes ago.