He was doing something
that wasn’t quite dancing,
kinda Broadway slash kung fu.
Edging down the street
in front of Cowgirl Creamery.
Twist and stomp.
Big headphones over
long black curly hair,
very Pt Reyes Station.
and talking really fast,
like the side effects disclaimers
on pharmaceutical ads.
No anti virus mask to interfere,
he was smiling through his beard
and I’d swear it was joy
not methamphetamine
that was fueling his
hypersonic patter.
He twists and stomps
and slices the air,
addresses happy
ninety-nine miles per hour
commentary on his moves
to Friday afternoon passersby.
I wonder what was playing
on those big headphones.
It must be something good.
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