Yesterday a blue-eyed storm blew through Los Angeles. The wind had been out of the desert for some days, calm and a bit warm, and then Tuesday morning we were buffeted. It got cold, for Los Angeles, and the wind reached 30 miles an hour at
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Tonight I ran, and cursed this aging frame
each mile run cursing harder than the last
each breath more labored, every pace the same
and sorry degradation, milestones passed
chained to my ankles. Streetlit sky a sieve,
the sodden city noise damping
A shriek from outside, a sickening noise almost inaudible, and then another I couldn’t identify. Tires on a curb? And then angry shouts, a deep, bellowing male voice, a woman crying hysterically.
I’d been dressing for a run. I went outside.
An
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