The wind blowssoft but loudenough to make your hair whipin your facelike you’re in a convertiblein a film.

Cars racedown the roadpassing all lifeleaving it all in its dustbehind.

The crunch of leavesunder high schoolers’ feetas the gossip pours out of their mouthslike a childwhooshes down a slide.

The lights beat downand flickeroccasionally on thejoggers, walkers, strollerson the road below it.