Hey Grampa, I like Your Jacket

Today He let me seek refuge in shallow things to stave off the panic in dark places.

I exit only slightly lifted. As I sit and wait, it starts to feel like sinking again; I had no elated visions, just mild satisfaction.
 
I can't see passed the crippled man so I stare at the frozen spit on the ground. I have no intention of walking through this snow that has been blown in by frigid air to spite the sunshine. No plans at all.

A rat-faced snake caws at me as he sticks his head out of a moving vehicle. A half breed monkey licks his lips and gives me a wolf-like stare. 
These lively beings are too comfortable and this sinking is making me restless.

That old white man was restless too...getting up well before the bus came to a stop--but then he lost his way, pausing briefly as if he'd made a mistake.

he has a face reduced to leathery mashed potatoes; grocery store bought khakis and lug sole Sketchers.
Perfectly tailored leather with a subtle, oil-slicked sheen. 

he refuses to sit in the front as expected; 
he knows exactly where he's going, yet he halted in confusion upon arrival.