The Light, The Heat

I was walking across the desert.

I came upon the singer Peter Gabriel sitting on a rock. Like a dummy I got really nervous and said, “I liked your So album.”

Peter Gabriel compassionately, but I’m certain essentially with pity, said, “Why thank you.” 

I continued my ineptitude by saying, “You’re welcome.”

And then I reached the depths of embarrassment by asking, “Can I take a picture of us with my iphone? Oh, Us, that was a good album too!”

Peter Gabriel said, “Thank you. Of course.”

I stood next to Peter Gabriel, our shoulders touched, I’m sure he was thinking I smelled because I just don’t have the finances for truly proper hygiene, and I blabbed, “Okay, 1, 2, 3!”

I said, “Thanks. I should go. Thanks. Thanks again.”

Peter Gabriel said, “Don’t mention it.”

I walked away. After about fifty paces, I stopped and looked back. Peter Gabriel was gone. I realized it was all a mirage.

Then I got angry with myself that I didn’t ask if we could sing a duet of In Your Eyes together.