I kept hitting refresh so the man would go away,
but he wouldn’t. He had stepped out of the vegetable
on 53rd. Ruby red fog was flying over the Pru.
“When the soul dissipates, who decides it so?” He
didn’t want to talk about it. I put my head down.
Still, I heard a lot of nice words under the lamp. “If you
use a color all the time, do you become that color?”
I replied:
“This is not my life, of course.”
But he just looked at me
not comprehending. The antlers in the breeze are...
such youth!
