A POEM - HE WAS TRYING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO

HE WAS TRYING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO
I was in this thrift store
off Charleston blvd
sorting through the dress shirts
to find something I could wear
to a job interview
if one ever came my way
the prices weren’t half bad
because that day
everything was fifty percent off
so there I was trying on shirts
when this old timer came up to me
and began to yammer away
something about the tremendous bargains
on that particular special day
after he pushed his cart up between us
he yelled, “if you need to move my cart,
go right ahead. I can’t hear good, see?
so if you say something to me
and I don’t respond don’t take offense.
I just don’t hear good.”
I nodded through my hangover
and slowly edged away from him
he was one of those people
you just didn’t enjoy being around
one of those people
who just brought you down
you could tell
he had a lot to say
and nobody to say it to
another minute passed
and without looking my way
he yelled out again
“now, I’m not trying to tell you what to do,
understand me,
but there are some real deals here
in this store today.
Now, like I said,
I’m not trying to tell you what to do,
you’re a grown man,
but there are some real deals here today
that you should take advantage of.”
I kinda nodded
tried to tune him out
but then he walked over
and nudged me in the ribs
winked and said,
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do.
I’d never do that.”
he stood there grinning this stupid grin
I didn’t know what to say so I said,
“well, thanks, I guess,
for not trying to tell me what to do.”
he coughed and moved back
to where he’d been sifting through the shirts
after a few more minutes passed
he pulled a shirt off the rack and said,
“now, I’m not trying to tell you what to do
or anything like that, but I think this shirt
would look great on you.”
he let his standard pause go by before he said,
“…not that I’m trying to tell you
what to do or what to buy or how to dress.”
the shirt he held up was clearly
two or three sizes too big.
“no, thanks,” I told him, turning back to the rack.
but the crazy fuck just stood there
with a shaky grin
holding up the shirt
pushing it out to me every couple seconds.
I realized he must not have heard me
so I turned again and was about to shout,
“no thanks” a second time
but he came towards me
and shoved the shirt into my hands
going on about how he wasn’t trying
to tell me what to do
or what to buy
or how to dress
finally I just slammed the hanger hook
onto the rack and barked,
“listen you old bastard,
stop telling me that you’re not trying
to tell me what to do! Because you clearly are!
Christ, this is ridiculous!”
a few people in the store looked over
I rang my hands at the ceiling
stormed out to my car
back to my room
where I could shut the door
pull the sheets over my head
and keep the world at bay.