I Saw a Man.

I was driving the car home from the store, when, dreamily, he nearly stepped off the curb into my path. I slowed, and the reduced speed allowed a close glimpse.

Parted carefully, his brown hair was combed sleek to one side, just above his horn-rimmed glasses. Grocery bags weighed down both arms. He had tucked his peach dress shirt into high-waisted pants, which were tightly cinched and pulled up and over his stomach.

He stared into the sky, mouth gaping, protruding teeth evident, and the arch of his back curved further and further as he bent backward toward whatever wonder transfixed him so.

I saw nothing in the sky, but I bet what I could not find was worth seeing.