the rain receded before the sun crept her hands up to the yielding skirt of ice and snow on the ground. I could put my boots on, go outside, crank music and oscillate wildly to distorted synths. it’ll drive the neighbor men crazy. coax a shotgun warning. better yet, I’ll grind my *** on their windows, pressing my cheeks to the glass taking their eyes off those 50 inch tvs. they’ll lumber out wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the pale peach outside and its inebriated rhythm. we will turn this arabesque of morning into an open air dance club, complete with mixed drinks and molly. ours is a sad cul de sac if only the trees are allowed to oscillate wildly. it’s not a place for nanoloops.