Lynn_L
on the way home from work last night
It’s two days to payday and I’m driving down Sepulveda, the longest street in L.A., watching the sun get sucked down behind the Half Moon Motel. Somewhere there’s a bartender holding a cold beer hostage, and I’m on my way to pay the ransom.
I got Felix Figueroa coming out of eight speakers, blowing sax all the way from 1947, and I’m keeping pace with a Metro bus. At a stoplight a girl with coffee brown skin walks by, newspaper in her hand, and the headline says Santa Barbara’s on fire again. The light turns green and overhead an AeroMéxico 747 makes its approach to LAX, on its way to half-deserted Terminal Five.
The girl with the coffee brown skin doesn’t even look up. It’s been that kind of day.
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