A Guy from Anaheim

 HE IS JUST A PILL PUSHER, but then what he peddles is light and all the compensation is in dawning, resplendent expressions. A hundred thousand hits a day, and he gives it all away! I am only a salesgirl, but the goods are mystical, the world is capricious, and we all receive the gift of limbic awakening. He has no possessions, and I take him back to my Vanagon. When we make it rock on its wheels it's because we decided not to do it . . . and we're holding fingers at electromagnetic intervals, both in lotus, lit up like lightning bugs.

He still hasn't told me his name.
 


pssst. . .sign the guestbook!