Blue Man materialized out of the early morning mist as I was walking back down the hill after a run. In the shadow of a huge old cypress tree on the road, suddenly there he was. He wore an old battered boonie hat (or fishing hat) and sunglasses, despite the dim light. I never saw his eyes. But most notably, his skin was blue. His face, neck and hands were all I saw but they were all the same shade of blue. A combination of alcoholism and circulatory problems, I’m guessing. He grinned at me with a rueful smile. I’m sure he was aware how startling his appearance could be.
An old hound dog by his side, he had a soft southern accent as we chatted about the beauty of the morning. The whole time I expected him to vanish as suddenly as he had appeared. I had the vague uneasy feeling that he had been conjured up somehow, either by my subconscious or some shadowy woodland spirit. I ran into him a couple of more times on the hill and once saw him inside the liquor store, under the full glare of the store’s fluorescent lights.
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