this morning #1911.

this morning, the dragging muffler hanging off the bottom of her car had come into conflict with the blacktop below, spewing sprays of screeching scrapes & sparks out from all sides. a thin black line left behind marking her path. she just kept driving. on & on, the pulses from the car stereo so loud that the chaos below her was entirely drowned out. on both sides of the street, pedestrians furiously waved as she passed by, trying to get her attention. she was far too absorbed in vocalizing to notice though. a concert for one. in love with her own abilities. justifiably so. perfect pitch. she finally pulled into the lot & parked. exited to a man crouched behind her car, peering under. mumbling “oh my.” shaking his head in disbelief.