..They are looking at Clearance Vinyl on the side walk at 5pm.
“Hey, Baby Blue†She pushes her navy blue cap back to see his smile. His teeth are white, contrasting cocoa cheeks and licorice wool dreadlocks. He greets her like a jazz jammer, nonchalant, slow words and steady articulation. A stark contrast to the man behind her at the deli an hour before.
She was struck by his classic articulation, wanting to compliment him on clear speech. He, however, did not see her, in a vintage t-shirt with sneakers worn sockless, dark denim and a Salvation Army belt, muttering an order of “Turkey and Muenster on plainâ€. He’s the kind of grandfather she’d want to serve tea to, asking him “Milk? Sugar? Honey?†with a youthful inflection.
She stands next to this dreadlocked connoisseur in a circa 70s flapper dress, bosomy and polyester. She’s “femme†in heels, a high head hiding the run in her CVS stockings. They strike up a conversation over music history--he's impressed that she knows his allusions, dropping deeper into classic rock, eventually losing her among Herman’s Hermits.
She takes his advice, grinning with mauve lips and handing the 4 dollars to the grunge kid behind the counter who counts out her change. He staples the receipt to the brown bag and she adds it to her accumulations, parting ways with jam man and turning to tea parties.
