Western Avenue

i was at this stop sign today, in my car. I was in the driver’s seat. With the window rolled down. On Western Avenue. I heard a voice. It was coming from the black SUV on my left. This very chipper looking guy with a beard and sunglasses yells out. “Hey, don’t we know each other?” It was so loud on Western Avenue that I could not hear him. I said, “what?!” And he said, “I feel like we know each other.” I said, “I guess it’s possible.” He said I looked like someone he knew, or maybe he said I looked someone he would know… could know.

But I could not place him. He looked like so many people. The beard. The shades. The SUV. I probably looked the same, except for the beard, the shades, the SUV.

We were both men who were white driving black cars on Western Avenue.

He asked me how my day was going. I said I was not sure because my day had not yet begun. He said, “So this must be a dream, right?” I said he might be right but this did not feel very dream-like.

And then I added, “Actually, I’m not really sure what I meant by that. How is your day going?”

“Great!” he said. And I knew he meant it. It was infectious.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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