30th and Welton
Last night the streets of Denver flooded. Water flowed over the hoods of cars, blew manhole covers off the street, and washed up some delicacies like this Mickey Mouse diaper above. What once was simply full of urine and/or shit, is now also saturated with the dirty, oily storm water that cleansed our streets. Its bulging, effluent spirit spoke to me so clearly from the sidewalk.
Though it whispered so softly, I listened with an intensity reserved for moments like this. In the most delicate voice it implored me "Come along."
"Come along where?" I asked
"Come along and sing a song."
"What type of song? You are so wise, yet so mysterious. Please! I am listening for your message."
"Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree."
I leaned in closer, yearning for more. Please, I thought, I am ready. I am ready to receive you.
But there was only silence. A bitter, bloated silence.
Last night the streets of Denver flooded. Water flowed over the hoods of cars, blew manhole covers off the street, and washed up some delicacies like this Mickey Mouse diaper above. What once was simply full of urine and/or shit, is now also saturated with the dirty, oily storm water that cleansed our streets. Its bulging, effluent spirit spoke to me so clearly from the sidewalk.
Though it whispered so softly, I listened with an intensity reserved for moments like this. In the most delicate voice it implored me "Come along."
"Come along where?" I asked
"Come along and sing a song."
"What type of song? You are so wise, yet so mysterious. Please! I am listening for your message."
"Come along and sing a song and join the jamboree."
I leaned in closer, yearning for more. Please, I thought, I am ready. I am ready to receive you.
But there was only silence. A bitter, bloated silence.
