I know the man who smokes cigars everyday all day in front of the 7-11
He knows me as the hula hoop man
He watches my car for me when i sling hoops on the median of 33rd
He always pulls for me, if i make a lot at the market he is always happy for me
He is a nice guy

Life throws me a curve ball and lately i respond by working harder to get my hula hoop business capitalized through the endless tape-wrapping of the hoops of all sizes that i make from irrigation tubing. My fingers as i type are numb.

Like a plumber who starts to realize intricacies of their craft, the hula hoop maker is also aware of the small things, the tricks to making hard turns and installing different vanities for different tastes.

I am also friends with Antwan, the old drunk who cheers for the hula hoop man
who pulls me in close so i can smell his breath
just look at what you’ve done
he tells me
this is the most beautiful thing, look at those kids, how much fun they are having
and if the money is good i give him five
if its not i give him a buck
the liquor on his breath masks the sage-words that he carries with him but
i see through his mask after so much hula hooping
which can make you clairvoyant