If it is worth getting rid of, shed it…
Perhaps he turned into the ants that have invaded my kitchen.
Looks like he wrestled to get out of the jacket and just fled.
Maybe clowns took him?
I never trusted clowns.
The shroud of anonymity ready to be carbon tested.
A relic of uncertainty. A fixture for the minds eye.
Abducted by interstellar clowns; dismantled and subject to restitution on the third day when he is bailed out by Maria Perez his lifelong companion.
Will she believe him or loose her faith?
“Jesus! Look at you! And where is your Jacket!?”
She puts her hand into the wound of his pocket.
“Where is the money for bread… How are we going to feed the children?”
“For the love of God, why are you forsaking them?”
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