Cruising the aerial skylanes over the avenues of lights. The converging
grid of coloured stars. A golden huge haze blazes aureole — down the
black vee of the canyons, the pubic golden glow of the city, the halo of
LA. Above the powerlines and the golden haze of LA — in the sage coyote
darkness — above the sirens and car alarms — the moon comes down the
hill in a black limousine.

Cruising the coloured stars. Coloured women in the colour-milk of
moonlight, the burnished sky over the visionways. The vision grid, the
vrid of viridian lasers. The blue moonlight of the evening teevee
programs. The converging girls of the teevee broadcasts.

Yearning for the warm women in the cold streets of LA. The warm yawning
women in the sheets of LA. Satin skin searching satin sheets, in the
heights, the lights from the heights, in the overlight decks, high up the
sage canyons, high over the vision freeways, aerial bedchambers of satin
sheets and yawning women. The van gogh vision lanes of cypress and stars,
on Cypress Blvd. The giggle of the yawning van gogh women.