a day in candyland..

Across the old asphalt – long days of heat, fumes with personality, drifting over the plane in soft rubber, squeaking, sticking. Seeing her again I wasn’t nostalgic or comforted, only reminded of a thousand days of her, like a monstrous dream; how I’d adapted to her oppressive form, her sterility. The days pressed down, soundless footsteps now gone into black… one, two, three lights flickering with their misused plasma high voltage noise. How long had I been adrift? A decade, maybe more… It was here, in these tunnels, across this sun-ruined landscape, that my work was collected, formed, where the voice emerged, was allowed to dominate. It was to this I was devoted all these years, not the empty streets.
Downtown silverline, an old man looking for Culver City left in a dark corner, crazy. He couldn’t understand in a flashing moment to take the subway across the street. Instead he slumped down to the street. See you..

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