Friday, May 02, 2003

It was a beautiful day,

It was a beautiful day, and everybody knew it.  I knew it; so did Kel, and I think the person or people in the convertible were in on it too.  It was hard to tell at first.  The driver was definitely a human female, coiffed and animated.  On the front passenger seat she’d propped a big black plastic bag full of clothes; the top of the bag rose above the headrest and flopped lazily, catching the swirling gusts of wind and shifting about like a tourist unsure which side has the better view.  In the back seat a black dog quivered with glee (thanks Pea), tongue unfurled and lolling.  Next to the dog an old hobby horse was propped up against a window, its yarn mane pointing the breeze like so many nautical telltales.  The driver was riding the clutch at the top of the hill next to us, slipping back and forth in her lane, waiting for a green light.  The bag flopped.  The dog hopped around.  The hobby horse teetered with every movement of the car.  The woman bobbed her head to unheard music.  At first glance, I had trouble telling which heads were real.