Text and image by HARRY GAMBOA Jr.
Ephemeral Aztec on the 405
Something about the cold dry air has me feeling out of tune with my former self. Not sure where the rest of me has gone off to but certain it isn’t all fun. At least I’m in a resting position with a grand view of the eternal chaos.
Everyone is speeding in utter opposition to everything that they’ve all been feeling. They know it is a perpetual dead end yet the keep moving towards the ultimate collision. If only you’d be kind enough to scratch my aching asphalt.
Breathe in and breathe out. Do it several million times and you still might not ever smell a rose. My particulate matter count is so high that it doesn’t really matter if the air is rarified. I’m transparent and you are pale in comparison. Let your tear ducts do the talking.
Everyone, enjoy the moment as it will only last forever.
I am a cloud in a creamy thought of lust and longing. It would have been better to drop acid everyday for a decade. Instead, I’ve invested in the minute-by-minute countdown that is reinvented every time I wake up. I can’t recall if I have a name or if you are a thing.
Let’s leap into the black hole to find what is rightfully yours.
There once was a skull that was so important…
Merge quickly before anyone cuts you off!
All decisions are painful.
Blow me away.