Fools, dangling, manipulated puppets; fools and folly … ahuhm…
This folly? The fantasy that the grey slouch doesn’t matter (all surely think him young … and acceptably feral); and do not consider the corporate joint and muscle dissolution.
Ah, but he would counter; do any of us really know who pulls our strings? And wouldn’t a mask of a smile be just as good?
Maybe, with a proper puppeteer, he could dance lightly, a bit more delicately; maybe.
Anachronistic Anarchist by Herb Eaton 