Orlando, Florida, 2001
It had a skeleton on a motorbike, or something, and the droll Old Guys Rule logo
and the guy behind me said That’s an awesome shirt, man! Hey,
have you heard the new Eric Clapton?
I considered: That shitty album was at least three years old.
I’m not sure I said. He said I say ‘new’, but I mean, it’s new to me, ya know? Realized
he’d been in prison, the album released before he was. I didn’t want to talk. Rude, because scared.
But it was the afternoon. The sun shone generously. He felt it
and looked past my cold shoulder in a palace of clothes that he chose, just happy
to be free again, talking about whatever with anybody, standing in line
with impunity on a Saturday for an Icee.
Stereo Story #661
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