yellow sodium street lamps
dried blood on scraped knees
cigarette burns on backs of hands
short fast food receipts
red and slowing exit ramps
tire shards emanating heat
idiotic rusted beer cans
blowing in a melancholic breeze
white ghosts in flying dance
posing as clotheslined bead sheets
exhausted pockets in stretched pants
holding worthless keys
novels, thoughts, and pulp plans
under a head of grease
all of this, from this land
on these city streets
umm.. thanks? Jimi Hendrix once described his playing style sith the goal of transporting the listener to a different reality or evoking a mood in the audience. There is no idea i'm trying to convey. I'm simply trying to paint a portrait of a dark, hot, summer night in downtown Indianapolis.