3.19.06

For some reason, he would always try to walk home along the very edge of the curbs. Sometimes, I would see him tottering along the painted lines in the middle of the road, perhaps using them as a substitute. It seemed that if there were no curbs nearby, he would walk on the cracks in the cement. If there were no cracks in the cement, he would walk the line where the new pavement met the old. He would just call it a silly feeling curb. And, well, if there was no silly curb, he would just pretend to walk on a curb. I'm not sure why he decided curbs were the right thing to walk on, but he was always pleased with the results.

I liked to watch him walk the painted marks in the streets, though. In the parking lots, he would glance up at the sky and jump from one to another, making himself look as if he was dancing to the stars.

He's waiting for them to dance back, you know.

Or maybe he's just waiting for his dance partner.