Mike

Met a man today from 1959
in bell bottoms and religious garb
I called him, "mike"
but his name was Egbert.
"Hey," I said in tones of bumblebees in flight
and he flew past
again or maybe to and fro
like a pendulum of thoughts good and bad but not waffling or indecisive.
decidedly true to the moment
decreeing the nowness of here and thereness of then
and an undying love of english muffins and coaxial cable.
"Hey," he replied cautiously
loudly with the explosions of two atoms crashing in the Florida sun
near the shadows where the crocodile sleep.
I smiled.
he smiled.
the salt on the edge of the margarita melted into the lime juice and tequilla
with my consciousness
and 12 ounces of brain cells I didn't really need.