Watching traffic buzz along like aimless bees, I hear “slap, slap, slap” coming up behind me. I pause a moment before I turn, wondering what this mystery sound could be. “Slap, slap, slap.” My mind frolics with possibilities. “Slap, slap, slap.” Whimsical rainbow fish falling from the sky? “Slap, slap, slap.” A walrus in a hurry? “Slap, slap, slap.” A bear on a bicycle with a flat tire? “Slap, slap, slap.” I turn. A little brown man in a dust-colored sweater, hunched against the cold is hurrying. The sun reflects from his bald dome atop a white ring of hair like an egg. He smiles a toothless smile as he passes. “Slap, slap, slap,” go his slippers as he scurries home. Much better than a walrus in a hurry.
A small stone in River of Stones entry.