That's the song of the week. The one that's always on when I turn on the radio. The one that I'm humming as I walk up the steps to get to my flat. The one that this week I love, and next week will become a terror to my inner heartstrings from overdose. It's by Train, in case you're not familiar and wish to look it up. However, I'm too lazy to provide a link here for you.
So, a muse:
LA's version of christmas lights
brakelights and headlights as far as the eye can see
flashing white and red, in long clumpy strings, wending their way imperfectly across the landscape
onramp meters add occasional pepperings of red and green staccato, in exclamation points of color not quite on the beaten path
like jingle bells being shaken, cars move and brake in an awkward jumble of squeaky breaks and balding tires - an odd cacophony for unison.
A few measures of this symphony:
Signal, move, brake. Brake, tense, brake. Signal, fumes, hold. Dart left, brake, swerve. Pull hair. Tap wheel, turn dial. Wince, turn dial. Grumble, roll eyes (at neighbor using cell phone). Brake. Battle nervous tic. Brake, gun engine, brake. Signal, move. Dart right. Watch mirror. Brake.
the rhythm of the dance is never quite in sync, but it gets the job done
later, rather than sooner, the cars graduate from the year-round lighting masterpiece and move make the exit...some leaving tire tracks, others delicately extricating themselves with unbelievable panache.
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