Bad Business and Bleeding Hearts

frowning,
as he fusses the knot in his tie,
at the hunched crone crossing
her feet barely lifting
she wobbles side to side
like a child’s toy
of a wind-up robot
the light is green
but still she remains

he watches her slow progression
behind him horns wrathfully sound
what the fuck
would they have him do
run her down
those murderous cunts would love that
in the rearview mirror
he sees one of the jackasses
silently scream
he watches the angry man
he watches the feeble woman
disrupting the morning commute
of himself and a hundred more

he hates her
he hates the society forcing her on the street
he hates the cold machinations
of physical reality
the atrophy, the entropy
the indifference
but most of all
he hates the shock of gray
through her black hair
dead center on her head
like a streak of off-white shit
left by a low flying sea bird
he hates it
because it means maybe now
or at least not long past
this widow-humped brittle lady
was vain enough
to bother to go into the shop
search the shelf for her color
make the purchase on a dwindling budget
go home to her sad apartment
and apply the chemical cake
it means she believed
someone somewhere cared
that she mattered
at least a little
and not too long ago
three months to judge by the roots exposed

sorrow from his frown spreads into his eyes
she is across
the way is clear
he accelerates away to work
this brief encounter
and the attendant thoughts it spurred
will be forgotten
but a thin trickle of its essence
seeped inside
to permanently stain, to fester and grow
to one day explode
in the most unlikely place
at the least appropriate time
in a great wash of tears
that will sour the biggest deal of his life

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