August 2007

A man crossed too close to the little automotive artwork parked outside my window — perhaps he actually touched it — and he set off the alarm.  So, for a few minutes the well tuned horn of the Mercedes was blaring, depriving me of my ability to think and the less righteous among us of their morning’s sleep.  When the horn at last ceased blaring, I heard the sound of hoof beats, clop-clopping at a brisk walk up the street in this direction.  I turned to the window hoping to catch a glimpse of a mounted patrolman, but as it turned out I had mistaken the sound of two young women with shoes that sounded like steel shod hoofs on the pavement.   Stylish.

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