2230 I call this one “The Crazy Orange Man:”

“Do not approach the crazy orange man. He stinks of cabbage and his clothes are bad. The man is talking to himself. They say that he is going mad.”

So I approach the crazy orange man and let him talk.

He asks me for a dollar. Says his name. A cab is honking, so he flips it off. Says he was an engineer at Ford. He calls me brother. Says it hurts. He says he didn’t tell them soon enough. He says he always knew, but couldn’t show himself, and now he is haunted by the thoughts of what it could’ve been if he had just said something sooner something anything I wish I knew he says I wish I said to all of them the things I had to say Then he crossed the street. 

Crazy mad, these people. Crazy mad. 

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