I want to thank you crazy man. While others may fear you, run away, scoff at your ludicrous stories- I, however, feel blessed by your presence. Yesterday when I took that bar stool at 4:30 in the afternoon , I could not know you would sit next to me. When you told stories and lied about everything you were (37 rich and retired from a "secret" job you weren't at liberty to reveal) it brought great joy to a day that brought me great pain. While you, crazy man, showed me your giant gold cross and explained your Italian Roman Catholic beliefs (although you appeared of middle eastern dissent) and I made fun of your lies straight to your face, you did not falter. And that, crazy man at the bar, was really funny. And when you showed me your hospital logo embroidered pull over as "evidence" of your secret medical job and I wondered if wearing Hudson jeans made the world think I was the designer, you barely even noticed my mocking. Crazy man, when you left to find good wholesome farm girls in St. Paul bars, please know that you made me laugh when I did not know I could laugh. You crazy man at the bar, you of all people, made me feel better when my heart was breaking. At a bar in the early cold evening of a Sunday.
Sincerely,
Girl Twentiesh
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