I approached the bar, and got the attention of the mixologist. Now … there was a women that was calm and collective. I looked gently into her eyes. She quickly caught my glance and gave a grin. Her face radiated from a light within, hidden behind a cool breeze or fog that seemed to distinguish her from everyone else in the room. She sent a vibe, and I dug it. Similar to when the drum beat rolls out to the sound of my keys, I felt a connection and I know she felt it too. I could tell she had it rough, but we all had something that kept us from being us. She was racing ’bout the place as if she was on skates. The way she moved reminded me of Creole playing the 12 bar blues. His fingers strolled up and down the neck, caressing the chords with such agility. She knew who I was, hell they all knew me. Sometimes, I showed up cranked outta my mind and other times, I was depressed … quiet and lonely.