Rock… or roll?
We spotted you crossing the street at Fourth and William wearing loud purple sunglasses, with the price tag flapping in the wind near the Greyhound bus station. You looked hurried, gripping the neck of an acoustic guitar in your left hand, holding a bottle of orange Sobe in your right. You looked like you were either running late to some faraway gig or your performance anxiety drove you to buy a one-way ticket out of town.
Chalk it up to age
We spotted you at Sonic Lunch lying on the ground in a onesie printed with human musculature, scribbling chalk drawings. You visibly spooked a little girl who approached you. When another woman politely asked you to leave the park precisely because you had spooked that little girl, you proclaimed to all bystanders that you had quit your job as a teacher because the little kids scared you. It’s OK; you don’t scare us.
Born in the purple
We saw you making your way through the crowd, purple streaks through your grey hair. Your Wayfarers and smile didn’t betray your age. You and your girlfriends happily eating sandwiches at Sonic Lunch, purple is definitely your color.
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