a thousand shades of saffron
Teddy goes into a bar. Orders a beer, asks for a straw. Has to repeat himself until the server understands. Sucks the beer up through the straw, his head filled with sad, lonely thoughts, as it bobs spastically atop his retard neck. Teddy finishes the beer. Orders another. Spills it accidentally with his clumsy retard hands. Leaves. Heads to the bus stop. The colors all around are changing. Where light becomes into the night there’s a thousand shades of saffron.
Like the sun in Santorini, Teddy thinks to himself. The fiery orb as it sinks into the Aegean Sea. Teddy sits twisted up in his wheelchair. He feels very alone. He’d be crying if he could. Dandelions have grown up through the cracks in the sidewalk. A wind blows, carrying the dandelion pixies about an endless cosmic sky.