Beautiful Afro

She had a beautiful Afro. Transcendentally beautiful.

She was walking across the overpass over 201/295. She had on a gray jacket and headphones, which only added unspoken cool to sublime beauty. She made me think of Lauryn Hill, if she had been in the Digable Planets.

If I could have stopped and stared I would have, but you can't pull that shit on 295.

It was a moment. A glimpse of beauty when you don't expect it--randomly on a freeway in a rundown neighborhood, where all you're thinking about is getting to work.

The Rolling Stones "I Just Want to See His Face" was playing, off of Exile on Main Street. Her headphones may have been playing the same tune--she walked perfectly in time to it. I wonder if she was the song incarnate, conjured up just to show the way you move to a groove. Maybe it was her theme music.

If Mick Jagger had been riding shotgun, he'd have sung about this girl, or her Afro. Or he would have cat-called. I don't know Mick, so it's hard to say.

For me it wasn't a cat-call situation. I'm married. I've found cat-call sublime beauty that way.

For me it was a moment. A reminder that there is this capital "B" Beauty out there, at unexpected times, in unexpected places.

Pay attention.