Lisa Toboz
east carson street on saturday night
Cruising down Carson Street on a Saturday night. The sky’s the color of Paul Newman’s eyes and taillights flash like souvenir stands. Got the Mary Janes up on the dash and traffic’s skating along all slow and relaxed, moving like cool jazz. Ain’t nothing wrong with the world—nothing that can’t be cured by going dancing on a Saturday night.
Timing, brothers and sisters, it’s all down to timing. Some nights the world’s moving in four-four time, some nights it’s all syncopation. The rhythm—oh man, the rhythm is out there. You just got to be open to the time signature.
That traffic light up ahead? It’ll turn green before we get there. It’ll change, and then it’ll be green lights all the way down East Carson Street, far as the eye can see.
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