HIDING IN PUBLIC

The fractured voice mumbled through the heating duct. "I put on leg warmers in the shower. I dance whenever the doorbell rings. Sometimes I keep dancing and never open the door. When I hear my wife pulling into the driveway I stand naked behind the garage door with goggles on my head and wait for the door to rise. Then I roll back and forth on the floor as it closes like Indiana Jones." The voice in the duct spoke about simple things. It was best to keep things simple. He left the small towns and moved to the cities. By being in the middle of everyone he was able to disappear. Most everyone in the cities did. Hollow concrete pinnacles filled with heads staring at carpet. He was able to slip through undetected as eye contact and any acknowledgement that he or anyone existed was frowned upon. We were breeding hoards of isolation. The only people that had anything to say were the advertisements and beggars. With his goggles and cape he'd walk the streets at sunrise. Disobedience and total loss of control seemed to drain the poisons growing inside. Guilt and self-loathing usually followed. Back into the duct he went. "I use public restrooms and intentionally miss. I try to call telemarketers back. I usually dine on the grocery store conveyer belt while waiting to pay. I use my change to dial a random phone number on the payphones as I leave the store. I send confusing valentines to strangers listed in the phonebook. I attended the convention, but defied it." Nobody knew why he did what he did. The judge called it crazy. The artists called it original and he called it life.