when the curtain closes.

there are things I will never forget.

on Saturday I began reading a novel on the lakefront as the sun was setting and the city was enjoying the sort of weather we wait months for: some walked, some ran, some threw balls at each other, some were enjoying a picnic, but not Mr. Lucky, oh no, he was strolling along looking for frowns to turn upside down and at the sound of his music--which played from his extremely well operating boom box--some half a block away, I turned to see what car was blasting its crap music at the beach and why, and this turn, this sneer of mine along my shoulder caught his attention. so Mr. Lucky strutted across the sandy grass and stood right in front of me and told me, "It's just the blues baby..." and then kept on strolling.

and then he came again, this time with a nod and a wave.

once more, and then on the last round, he introduced himself to me and actually said his name was Mr. Lucky. I hope to see him again next Saturday while I read another book.