things move around

Last night
I met a man
who marked each syllable he spoke
by slapping his inner thighs alternately.

Last night
I met a man
who uttered an obscenity each time
a cripple or a copper crossed his path.

Last night
I met a man
who, sitting down to dine,
insisted on removing socks and shoes,
expectorating, and invoking Baal.

Last night
I met a man
who wore a vial of turpentine
around his neck, except when in the bath.
Precautions never hurt no one, says he.

[Idea by W.A.]