RAPID CITY
Rapid City is a beautiful place, full of historic buildings, and there is a grandeur, a feeling of impossibility on the streets of that odd little town. Anyone who has seen the sculpture of Crazy Horse changes somehow, sees things with a different inner perspective, begins to think crazy wild things can happen.
We rolled into town at high noon, and we both commented on that. We imagined ourselves gunslingers, having a high noon show down, a contest of of reflexes and bitterness. We imagined this for a little while, then came back into more physical awareness, each commenting on the garb of the other in our shared hallucination.
Duel already taken care of, we decided to find a rinky dink cafe in which to enjoy an old fashioned BLT and some slightly luke and inexplicably metallic tasting coffee. LuLu's Fine Cafe was the ticket.
Sitting in the bay area of the restaurant afforded all the action of a street side table with none of the mist which was clinging to everyone who entered the little place. The city was still in the grips of fog, a chilled and grey day in South Dakota. Lily complained about how her knees still ache in this weather, and I told her yet again how it is only in grey cloudy weather that I feel good, but that yes, I do get achy too, want some Motrin? Some Milk Thistle tea?
“Her office is just a half a block away,” Lily announced from the map she had called up on her phone. “Let's just eat and walk over there.”
