The Man

There he goes, bouncing down the busy New York minute street.  As women turn, that minute turns into days of thought.  Chin high, shoulders straight, he owns this city.  With each step the base booms through bystanders headsets.  They can feel his heels pound the cement and send life into the lifeless huddled in stores doorways.  His stride sends ripples through his rugged sleek suit.  Powerful, forceful and free.  People begin to follow and feel the music that shoots from his presence.  Basketballs strike the road along with the swinging of his arms.  Traffic officer’s whistles blow in sink with each bob of his head.  Taxi’s come to screeching halts as he raises his right hand and crisply snaps his fingers.  He turns the corner with snappish flare and shoots the cool Atlantic breeze, inducing the building flags into aerodynamic sheets ready to break free from their oppressive poles.  Like a caste shadow, every single move is magnified, noticed, and consuming.  He is streamlined, no inch is wasted.  His black shoes reflect the city lights and form an external spotlight constantly on him, beaming towards the tallest clouds.  His pants sway with purpose, screaming a warning , creating his decided path.  White tips of his cuffs peak from beneath his dark tight blazer as he rolls over the crowds.  The street approaches, but this machine war will not stop him.  The music stops.  He struts through the intersection, only stepping on the white paint of the checkered road, as tons of steel sandwich either side of him.  The breeze of the imposing forces bounce off, he continues to be polished without disruption.  Straight faced, the beat of his heart will always remain the same, he coasts through and reaches the far side.  Everyone waits and watches as he turns to the passenger crossing pole.  He peers at the dead red hand, crosses his arms and leans against the trivial pole society relies on.  He indents the button with his dominating hands and watches the red turn to white.  The beat is back, the balls are bouncing again.  The wind howls once more.  He grins, turns, and walks away.