The Man Made of Paper by Gabe DeGuire
And there he was, covered in— newspaper?
No, on closer inspection,
the amalgamate of inked out letters and words and sentences and paragraphs and stories,
they were far too scattered and varied to be from any reliable news source.
I take a step forward, the sound of my soles against the floor reverberating.
The fragmentation of paper composition that composes and surrounds his very being
shudders in the amplified echoes of my footfall.
His composure wavers, face enshrouded within walls of words
Eyes darting, almost in awe of my existence and
Awe becomes panic,
pace of my stride staying steady towards the infolded constant of consonants, the man
entrapped amongst his vowels, vows
wrapped around and around and around…
I tell him it’s alright,
that small mistake after
minuscule encounter,
recount, inscribed into the fibers that construct
and crease and clamp and constrict
and kill
conversation that is
created in order to prevent the very
flaws that flourish with tongue-tied
finding every action leaving behind
infraction after infraction tarnished by
the reactions and countless retractions of word and
every movement
every face
carefully calculated.
I pause, the paper man practically falling apart,
unraveling, revealing,
and unveiled.
I avert my eyes,
as the binds
of learned lifestyle
fall for just a
moment and his
failure
becomes
relief.
Gabe DeGuire is a student at Central Visual & Performing Arts High School.