10/9/11 Minute vibrations dance an electric resonance to displace the space between this car’s speakers and my ears. A physical thrust of energy, moving matter through the dimensions and against the thin stretched skin of my eardrum. Signals transfer back to electric currents and play a single sound on my consciousness. It’s natural then to be touched by music, because in truth, without the touch of airwaves there is no song. So with the ascending purr of this engine and the ceaseless metallic taps of torrential rain, I crank up the stereo and raise my voice to sing along. Jazz. The quiet wet shift of windshield wipers squeak precipitation away from my field of view; a futile battle fought for vision’s clarity. Light reflected and refracted, the medium of this world’s image proves too easily misdirected. Gutters puddle and prepare the streets for flooding. Splashed six feet high by rolling black tires, the murky brown liquid falls once again to the concrete. Our raincoats and rubber boots keep us dry, but I think I’ll let myself get drenched for a while.
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