Avenue of the Americas
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Two men were walking down the street. They were survivors of the Age of Love of the Sixties.
Two elderly hippies moved along the sidewalk with a dignity and nobility befitting their
age. Their eyes reflected that
condescending haughtiness they
acquired by entering through the gates
of LSD to other worlds unknown to me.
“Howdy,” says the one dressed in pink. “Hi, how are ya,” I reply. "I'm great,
can't you tell?" smiles the one in green.
Yes, I can. I can only see them
through the fissures in reality known to me.
"Have a nice day," they say in parting, and
then go their way.
I follow them with my eyes. From time to
time just fragments of them appear and
disappear on the street. Watch out, guys!
You'll get run over if you're so hard to see!
I start to worry about them.
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