“he’s crazy,” the blond whispered to the brunette.
“how interesting,” the elderly lady declared, rolling by on her wheelchair.
“GET OFF THE STREET!” bellowed the cab driver with no passengers.
“hey man, what’s your message?” slurred the pimply teenager, stopping to stare.
“hold my hand while we walk past this man,” murmured the mother to her son.
and so on…until one tuesday evening…
five hours into the spinning, twirling and singing that was his charade- day after day on Downtown Boulevard- Mac heard one he had never heard before from a mouth on a face he would never find through the crowds:
“how very athletic! he must be strong to do that! carrying the flag is quite a burden these days enough! and to be manipulating it with such pride and such talent!”
and with that he packed up and headed home over the border.