A swelling of tears tsunami’s his bowels. A bouquet of smiles for onlookers.
Eyes, a humanistic dam grappling pain. Sweetest gestures of joviality to passersby’s.
Tears dropping, mouth wide open, clutching a towel against his face – no sound.
He washes his face, dries his hands, brushes the beard, and primps his shirt, a meeting in 10.
Expect laughter, wait for the punch line, be inspired by his presence, adore his perfectionism.
But miss his humanity. Mistake his red eyes as hardworking. Assume his tardiness as busy, make light of his bruises as battles won, and lastly jest of his silver… platter… life.