Friday, 8 June 2012

street life without rain

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The cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word as a siren tears the night in half. Hot air melts shapes as blue flashes bathe the street, reflecting razor grins.

We hear laughter washed with beer and shots of jello. The cops are standing by the small white shape. Someone climbs out looking both ways at passers-by and then into the eyes of the cop on the left.

We move out of earshot knowing that in five minutes the whole thing will cool down to just a warning.

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