A man who is coming erratically toward me carries a cane in each hand. The canes are a gold one and an aluminum one; a large bandage obscures his right eye. I am on his right side. He wears a coat with a high, spattered collar that covers his speech so I can’t understand it. The belt of his coat drags the ground behind him, accumulations of small things and their wrappers. He looks annoyed when I obviously try to avoid passing closely by him.
Later, I am again out walking and a car nearly strikes me. The car is two-toned, the color of the doors mismatching the color of the body. Also, its headlight on the side nearest me is missing, the metal a gash where the light had been, and its muffler drags on the ground, coiling exhaust.
I avoid my body being hit, and then I am struck realizing that I turned a man into a car.