To the middle-aged,
salt & pepper bearded,
Pink Floyd blaring,
belting out (“Shine onnn you crazzzzy diiiamond…”)
with no shame whatsoever
gentleman who drove his motorcycle past my house this morning while I was laying in the grass
with the dog
absorbing the earth’s ions
while listening to Pink Floyd (“Breathe… breathe in the air…”)
like the eccentric goddess I am…
… come back.
I think we might be soul mates.