The sounds of Tourette

this young man emits
the hoot of an owl
followed by the crack of bones
adjusting themselves in his neck,
the other
cries as the van door swings open
the swish of air as his arms flail
he barks, gathers himself
before badging in and nodding,
a soft hello.
he gathers the mail, holding himself
in control until he is within proximity
of his van
as it rolls away, I hear explosions of sound.
the young man now smiles at me
and when he hoots, I smile back.