revival

I didn't turn around, but someone behind me on the bus leaned into my ear, and whispered,
"Though you've needed time, you've needed harsh head stride, the reeds below you as you skim across the myopia thrush your shins. A minuteman will always be a minuteman, a knot remains a knot. You were unprepared, sclerotic, for the onrush of the fits-spackled world. You were polite, when asked to defend your brother, and so you were slaughtered, deservedly."
I know who it was. I'd hoped I'd live the rest of my days and die without ever seeing him again. He and I should never have existed in the same world, let alone on the same westbound bus.