space-oddity's Diaryland Diary

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on sutherland

it was only for a brief second, but as i went zooming past the little boy on his bicycle, i could hear that he was singing to himself.

i smiled.

another corner, an ice cream truck. sappy, monotonous tunes pouring from white speakers atop the roof.
i wonder if. i wonder if once the driver closes his eyes for sleep at night, he still hears the noise. so horrible. like the doomed tetris player, lying in bed, forever piecing blocks upon blocks together in his head. he even sees it in the bathroom tiles.

coming home.
hair a mess from the wind.
the skin on my face smells like diesel.

that's what you get for driving with the windows down,

but no matter.

thank goodness it is spring.

9:05 pm - Thursday, Mar. 28, 2002

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