|a movie moment taken from my lj.
||[Aug. 10th, 2004|07:45 pm]
like a drive home on john deere road, the parts where diners and super-marts fade into nothing. only your headlights guide your way, and you feel as if on some country highway. wind against a window frame sounds like helicopters above. night ones, black, only given away by sound. following you down the road. "driving too fast?" logic asks. there are no helicopters, but you have never heard that sound before. still driving on a set design. still going 50mph, the speed limit seems too fast. think a cigarette might calm you down. light it. think you see a cop, but it was only the flame reflecing in the rearview. you hate those adjustable lighters. why don't you just invest in a bic? but this is the one a poor, old, black man gave you in chicago when you asked for a light. he had an extra, but still you felt guilty for taking it. he insisted. the curve sign passes by, you're almost home, and the road looks familiar. your foot itches. think about what you would say if you got pulled over for your missing break light. "i'm just tired, officer, go ahead and breathalize me." but knowing you, you would accidently say "ossifer," even though you are not drunk--at all. turn to go down the big hill. almost forget about the stoplight on the way. notice it is green and stays green. until you can no longer see it behind you. green light at the bottom of the hill. big hill. foot still itches. think about leaning down to itch, but a car comes perpendicular. good thing you didn't itch. light goes yellow. sit at the line, disappointed. realize the script was written for you to itch your foot at the red light. perfect. tame the itch. light turns green, but the bridge is so long. smoke again, out of paranoia. only a fourth of the cigarette is gone before you pull into the driveway. home.|