airport

then the irishman. an old tree stump sprouting new life. speech equal parts irish accent and escaped mental patient. teeth like a war veteran cemetary. brown like caramel. stained from sediments carried by the wind. sentiments of hard immigrant life. a serious face when observing what surrounds him. a face jolly when engaged in conversation. one. two. three word replies. a busted smile and eyes disappeared behind six pound eyelids. head always shaking positive up and down. from a small town youve never heard of in ireland. been in new york city for twenty two years. originally came over for vacation. went back then came back. for good. visits the small town he calls home twice a year. has a wife and two kids. works construction "on big big buildings in manhattan." (then big grin). he has a winter hat with brown and gray scarecrow hair defiant beneath. he drinks dark stout in an airport bar sat at your table. he opens a package of thick individually wrapped chocolates. he dumps them all out and opens them slowly one at a time. continues to eat them slowly one at a time. he never starts the conversation or asks a question but he was the one to sit down at your table when almost all the other tables were open. he chews on his tongue and watches the people passing by. and the planes are delayed. his flight is scheduled to leave in two hours.