contrast in the dawn, emergence of a different day, everything has changed in the pastel colour of morning as the light touches life, my coffee cup empty, the highways mesmerizing tunnel to elsewhere, i drift into calmness and spin away from turmoil.
as fate would have it i've been instructed by my boss to take my clients to a car show, oh no!
i shake my head, car show, jesus, i had other plans, we were going to drive down to the beach and watch the girls jogging while i composed poems and ate an ice cream in the sun. i can't think of anything more duller than a car show, at bloody olympic park for goodness sake.
i get on the road, my people are wondering what they will be having for lunch, they obsess about food, it's like the one thing they all agree upon, food is good, so much pleasure in eating i guess, it's not like these guys get the chance to have sex or hang glide, they don't, i've suggested the surrogate experience but no one in a govt. dept. wants to listen,
so it's the car show, park in some huge building and walk hundreds of miles to the stadium where in the distance i can here engines roaring, the stink of petroleum and the sound of soft rock music, ac dc, blah, what kind of hell is this?
as it turns out the place is jammed packed with women in glitter bikinis and huge high heels, they require support walking they are so high up, clutching one another's arms they hand out photographs and posters, they smile and take photographs with strange looking men in baseball caps.
there's loud music everywhere, hip hop blasts from car windows, cars with big shiny doors, cars with massive wheels, polished metal gleams upon the surface of everything and we are handed paraphernalia about spark plugs, carburettors  differentials and paint, anything you can think off. i repeat, 'no thanks i am not really into cars,' my mantra. the guys i am with are laden with promotional stuff, bags of crap spilling out from huge plastic bags.
i confess i just look at the women, who all seem to want to give me their posters, and i notice that the posters are not just of sporty looking cars, no, the posters are of the women with the cars in the background. wow, it's supermodel fucking nirvana. 
actually these are not supermodels, but they are pretty glamorous and appealing and seem to be making a fuss over me, ah wait a second, it's not me they are fussing over, it's one of my clients, he always gets the girls, i don't know why, girls seem to go crazy around him. what's wrong with me, i think, haven't i got the supermodel attractor happening, obviously not. 
they give him posters covered with kisses and i just get 'have a nice day.'
nice fucking day!
one of these ladies is particularly glamorous and she's covered in tattoo's and piercings, and suddenly i feel in the middle of a middle aged crisis, i feel the heat closing in, i need to get outta here, lights burning holes in my eyes, music thrashing my peace. as i drive away i take some pleasure in the trees, all pink and vital in the sunlight, tasting spring days, rejoice.