So, Bowie.

I was nervous.
And I don’t usually get nervous.
This guy saunters out of a trailer.
Thin guy.
Spiky, cropped cut.
Gray hair.
Gray suit.
He’s alone.
He walks toward me.
I would have thought he was a PR person telling me Bowie wasn’t coming.
But I saw the eyes.
Two blue.
Same color.
But different.
One pupil is permanently dialed.
From a fingernail in the eye.
From a fight when he was a kid.
You don’t want to stare at the eyes.
But it’s David Bowie.
You’re going to stare.
I told him I’d lived in the same building as Iman in NYC.
Ice breaker.
I kept staring at the icy blue eyes.
We talked about Fame…
Fame.
What you like is in the limo.
Fame.
What you get is no tomorrow…

We talked about touring.
He said in the 70′s one traveled with ones dealer.
He said now…
One travels with the kids, the nanny, the chef, the trainer.
He was amused at how healthy he’d become.
But soon after that he was sick.
Heart problems…
Then eventually cancer.
I can still see him walking toward me.
I was nervous because…
How often do you sit down with an icon.
Actually we didn’t sit.
It was a quick interview.
He was the epitome of cool.
But warm.
We laughed a few times.
I thanked him.
We said goodbye.
I can still see those eyes.
As different as he was…