My brain’s busted into thousand needled anxieties about the future.
Our street is loud. Every rev of a motor raises my expectations like I’m gonna get somewhere, and then it’s silent or it dopplers away.
The buses are boats with foghorns, idling outside our window. If I could just find us a life boat, life preservers. All the buses are sinking.
Smith comes in from the rooftop with his ever optimistic perspective. “I was up on the roof, smoking, and I heard loud music coming down the Periferico, quarter block away. Sounded like American Rock, loud. Saw what looked like a heavily, ornately, circus painted pickup with a rounded cylinder on top blaring the Rock n Roll. Going too fast to get a good look for analysis. It was followed by a normal sedan with a man sitting out the passenger window, his arm on the roof, filming something behind. This was followed by a second car with TWO men hanging out the passenger windows, one on each side of the car, filming what was behind them. Then came a couple normal cars. Then a big float vehicle. The front end of the vehicle was covered in red flowers, the back end looked floatish but it was going too fast to register. Then came a couple more civilians in normal cars. Then came a bigger truck float covered in white flowers bunched up in like, a throne. And a lady in a white dress. And it was going too fast but I got the impression it was a wedding scene. And the girl was waving to the people following in cars, and the next three or four cars had balloons tied to them. So it feels like a wedding party. Then they were gone. So I finished my joint and came downstairs.”