I'm sorry I scared you under the viaduct tonight. The camera flash came first,
even before I knew it was you. I just thought a carload of soccer players
in an Isuzu Trooper II--same as the one our friends
Megan and Steven were driving us
home in from art opening at Oculus--who decide it's time for a Chinese fire
drill (or whatever it was you all were doing at that STOP sign, climbing
out and getting your equipment...) deserved to have their picture taken.
I suppose I shouldn't have used a squeaky falsetto to scream,
"Laura! I used to work with you in Kensington, Maryland!" You looked frightened.
Sorry about that.
But it's just so weird--of all the days to run into you.
Earlier in the afternoon I'd been looking through old snapshots to cut into
hand-stamped business cards, and there you were, SGMA SuperShow '97. I even
had a picture of you in my pocket--probably for the first time in my life.
A little cropped 2x3 of you and John
Reich looking tired and unhappy waiting for the MARTA in Atlanta. Do
you remember that trip? If you don't, that's OK. We'll always have