Duds and Suds
by Greg Razran
Saturday, November 23, 2002
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He runs across the parking lot,
His steps, firm and confident,
Not quite graceful, but pretty close.
This man, on two prosthetics-
I think he works at Duds-n-Suds,-
Sprints nonchalantly, his lean silhouette
Getting smaller and smaller,
As he moves further away from me.
I feel amazed, but also scared,
I don’t quite know why.
I think of dashing after him;
Think of tapping him on the shoulder
And saying something like
I really admire your attitude.
But then it seems so stupid,
So fake, so corny in the worst way.
Instead, I stand there and watch him,
Now just a gray speck,
Floating through the sea of parked cars,
The Duds-n-Suds man,