The stoplight on the corner had been broken for weeks. Westway Avenue was yellow and green at the same time, while Cherry Lane was forever red. Mabel knew this. Mom and Dad called it "the Intersection ... [+]
Fireworks rupture the smoke gold stars like sky-sealed approval burst trickle down green triangles flare then vanish the city gathers along the shore in mosquito-dotted night the buzz orchestral, indifferent purr of the ocean, surprised gasps of children, their popsicle-sticky faces made long with dropped jaws they whoop and whimper in stark contrast with the college students: young, cool, well-versed in critical theory; they trade paraphrased Foucault and cigarettes, remark on their elegant boredom but they don't leave grudging wonder wedged behind their collarbones and halfway up a construct