friday settled like amber geese on Central Avenue bazooka exhaust and sunlight mixed in a traffic cocktail of big city swamp gas joggers plodded oblivious to Molotov backfires of failing metal wise old street boys walked slowly barely breathing an emphysemic elixir from coup de villes and gas de jours mixed with a fine oil slick vinaigrette the dead man on the street was a problem so they all went around him some ambulance people sopped him up they were breadsticks in this meal sinew, bone, and blood the entree just above a crow swam through the galliano air to a drunken landing on a cable T.V. wire and demanded better programming eleven hours later a curtain fell to starry winks on black velveteen and everybody came out for a bow |