He sat there…lookin’ right at him…starin’ at him…tryin’ to place him…where’d he seen him before…maybe down at Donny’s over on Broadway…or…BJ’s Pub a little further down the road…hard to say…definitely didn’t see him at The Rock…not the type…he looked wild…but he didn’t look that wild…had this way ’bout him…couldn’t figure him out…some kind of calmness was in his face…it was as if he had the sweet love of Jesus all in him…he looked that way…long hair and blue eyes…should’ve been carryin’ a lamb…like them pictures in the Bible…those colored drawings of Jesus and the twelve disciples…he even wore sandles…

Maybe he was some kind of hippie…some kind of Dead freak who never quite got over the death of Jerry Garcia… been wanderin’ ’round the country ever since…could’ve seen him in Albuquerque…maybe it was Austin…or outside of Flagstaff…he couldn’t figure him out…so…he sat there starin’ at him…took a swig of beer…and walked over to the jukebox and played Sweet Dreams…brought a smile to his face…looked over at Jesus and he was smilin’ too…like he was thinkin’ of somebody…some woman he’d left behind years ago…maybe her name was Mary…maybe she washed his feet at one time…greeted him as he came out of the grave…those kind of things stick with a man…you can never shake em…

So they looked at each other and smiled…didn’t say a word…nothin’…

And he was gone