BANDANNA
During my sailing trip down south in ’74–75, a bandanna was my main protection for my bald head. One day in Miami, it slipped, so I stopped at a store window to use the reflection. I folded it into a triangle, pulled it down over my face, and flipped it up to tie behind my head.
Just as I lifted it, I looked through the window — and realized it wasn’t a store at all. It was a bank. And the guard inside was drawing his gun.
I didn’t wait to explain.
I ran. Fast and hard.
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