Вино из одуванчиков

           Allthosespringsinside?Feelalltherunninginside?Feelhowtheykindofgrabholdandcan’tletyoualoneanddon’tlikeyoujuststandingthere?FeelhowquickI’dbedoingthethingsyou’drathernotbotherwith?YoustayinthenicecoolstorewhileI’mjumpingallaroundtown!Butit’snotmereally,it’stheshoes.They’regoinglikemaddownalleys,cuttingcorners,andback!Theretheygo!"

           Mr.Sandersonstoodamazedwiththerushofwords.Whenthewordsgotgoingtheflowcarriedhim;hebegantosinkdeepintheshoes,toflexhistoes,limberhisarches,testhisankles.Herockedsoftly,secretly,backandforthinasmallbreezefromtheopendoor.Thetennisshoessilentlyhushedthemselvesdeepinthecarpet,sankasinajunglegrass,inloamandresilientclay.Hegaveonesolemnbounceofhisheelsintheyeastydough,intheyieldingandwelcomingearth.Emotionshurriedoverhisfaceasifmanycoloredlightshadbeenswitchedonandoff.Hismouthhungslightlyopen.Slowlyhegentledandrockedhimselftoahalt,andtheboy’svoicefadedandtheystoodtherelookingateachotherinatremendousandnaturalsilence.

           Afewpeopledriftedbyonthesidewalkoutside,inthehotsun.

           Stillthemanandboystoodthere,theboyglowing,themanwithrevelationinhisface.

           "Boy,"saidtheoldmanatlast,"infiveyears,howwouldyoulikeajobsellingshoesinthisemporium?"

           "Gosh,thanks,Mr.Sanderson,butIdon’tknowwhatI’mgoingtobeyet."