He had just turned forty
the new thirty
He felt a half century
outdated
overwhelmed
inundated
Still he was real as they come
long since had a habit
velveteen
ran from the law
used to call him rabbit
All tore up and shit
he caught her attention
on the strip
Vegas
either ’78 or ’77
She was in a rush
looking for a friend
nights when the streets got her numb
cold as ice cream but aint no fun
All sorts of shit went wrong
for a white girl blonde as a
bleached out jersey updo
the kind that blocked your view
when you got those last minute
scalpers to go see Motley fuckin’ Crue
what she was made of really
you could not quantify
Something sweet and soulful
and spilling over your edges
a bowl of oatmeal
warmth all over
exponential
infinite
She carried him aways
away
brought him in
blurred the bright lights
beat back the city
He shifted out of first into a focused way
a fineness
When he found her
Then up a sec to a feeling street reality
met her Up on third avenue
to embrace
Anyone around them
stopped to catch a glimpse
Involuntary
like the sudden encounter
with a solar eclipse
The
totality