The Dude

The dude was just walking down the street, all bull-legged and pidgeoned toed, at the same time quiet, but moving deliberatly, nobody knew he was made of water, pines, and bluejays, didn’t look the part, had little in common with most folks, what he listened to usually was not popular, what he wore is not fashionable, in it’s own right, seems, it made most take a second look and smirk, most then noticed the brown skin, long hair, the dark eyes, that rarely blink, with large hands from years of working, just to survive, with legs that had walked to, way too many places, most people quickly leave the area, after checking on their own valuables.
The dude, he just smiles and finishes his last poem, in his head, he’s not at all pretty, expensive or rare, he just flies off to his favorite tree by the river, because, he knows that he is made of water, pines, and bluejays. And, he is the dude!