The toll booth gate won’t go up. Red dirt. Bright white LED lights expose hail pockmarks in my hood. Highway. Can’t tell if there’s something wrong with my car or it’s something in the road. A repetitive ‘fwip – fwip – fwip.’ Headlights cone out. I’ve got plenty of time. I’m lost under an ocean of time. Breathing slowly but steadily below the surface. Breathing softly but deeply on a long straw whose other end is inches above the waterline, catching mist off the waves.
Nightlife
Step out of your crisp blue winter evening and into the wild swing of Archibald Motley Jr.’s Nightlife; a vivid portrayal of the hip nocturnal
January 23, 2021
