I'm on a four-lane-wide
road. I begin here, at its lowest point; it's all uphill from here. There's a slight flow of red-clay-colored water - the beginnings of a
flood. The road is
deserted, except for a man who tells me to get up the hill and find
shelter - the impending
thunderstorm will cause massive
flooding.
Or worse. We head
uphill. I tell him my aunt and uncle live in this town, so I'll head over to their house, but when I mention the name of the town, neither he or our companions (where'd
they come from?) recognize the name. Grey skies.
We arrive at a posh party, but the party atmosphere is tempered by the upcoming storm. I'm sitting on a couch with She #1; we're holding onto each other, marveling at the terrifying storm. It's not the end of the world. Is it?
She #2 is the more serious of the two, saving the whales and such. She disapproves of a clown such as I, methinks. I can feel the distancing.
I'm supposed to sing? Been there, done that, nearly passed out one rehearsal from dizziness - I wasn't breathing right. But here I am again, singing, just to show you guys what a bad idea this is. After a rough beginning, it actually
sounds good, even operatic in quality. Now I can't stop singing, though I know few words. You can't shut me up. Even an opera-loving buddy likes it. So the nature of the band changes, I guess; how shall we build things around this new discovery? And
what am I supposed to sing?
I run into She #2 at an elevator. We both get in; she greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. I return the favor, planting my kiss on the side of her lips.