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 never has told me his name.

pssst. . .sign the guestbook!