tales from an ordinary world

2002-07-09

Burning rubber hits the air, from the kid in the Commodore who turned around and sped past angrily as I crossed the street. I'm nearly home now, winding my way around the back of the town hall while people poke at pictures in the gallery, the carpark amost full. A single bright star keeps its eye on me, through the trees in our street, and up the shared driveway to the front door.