They are a swarm of lady bugs or maybe even locusts that will never find rest or calm.
They'll just keep flapping around in the summer sun with their millions of eyes.
His knuckles are cracked and dry and the ridges of the skin is deep like some smaller canyon that sits adjacent to the Grand Canyon.
His talking is not like my talking or like your talking but his talking is like his talking.
He groans with happiness and tears so you have to know him to know what's going on.
But even if you don't know him you already kinda know him.
He's an angel.
Did you know that?
It's true.
He talks to God and then he takes those conversations and relays them back to me and he tells me things like, "SLOW DOWN YOU ASS!" or "LEAVE ME ALONE!" or "BE STILL, YOU IMPATIENT JERK!"
He also tells me things like, "I love you" and "I'm so glad you're here with me" and "please stay a bit longer" and "Don't you think my dad's great?"
He's balding and his legs don't work but he's cooler than I am.
His laugh is more beautiful than yours.
His smile is grander than mine.
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