Lay it on me, John Melillo of Tuscon, dreaming of water so far away from water, so bleached and brittle and dry and baking in the desert sun – lay it on me. Still lakes recede, become contaminated, contaminated by nature – some say reclaimed, but I say revised.
Lay it on me.
“Lightning” strikes the experiment and it grows, one lone puddle electrified, molecules dancing, recombining, at speeds unimaginable. Out of this disturbance grows an aquatic nightmare – but with nowhere to go, it disappears with the puddle, shriveling like John Melillo in the blazing Tuscon afternoon.
Plug in, “Lightning,” layer yourself with extra effects, feed from the power grid, breakneck pace forward, sometimes uncontrollably. Smash through highway barriers, perfect chaos, each shredded nerve a trophy for thriving one second at a time. What sounds electricity makes! What combinations it emanates!
Posts
