Feb. 2010

Main and 8th
that double light

She turns and looks at me, "Where's your helmet?" gesturing with her hand to her head and I can't help but to think of a monkey patting their head and rubbing their belly.
"Where's your helmet?", I say
fuck off I think. This city has contorted itself. The conservatism is apparent. Cyclists with miner-lit helmets on their precious heads and bikes equipped with car bright headlights swarm to the sea wall. These streets are dead, these people are paranoid. This city needs an anomaly and I'll be one if only for the wind in my hair.