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Avenue of the Americas

Two men were walking down the street. They were survivors of the Age of Love of the Sixties. Two elderly hippies moved along the sidewalk with a dignity and nobility befitting their age. Their eyes reflected that condescending haughtiness they acquired by entering through the gates of LSD to other worlds unknown to me.
“Howdy,” says the one dressed in pink.
“Hi, how are ya,” I reply.
"I'm great, can't you tell?" smiles the one in green.
Yes, I can. I can only see them through the fissures in reality known to me.
"Have a nice day," they say in parting, and then go their way.
I follow them with my eyes. From time to time just fragments of them appear and disappear on the street. Watch out, guys! You'll get run over if you're so hard to see! I start to worry about them.