This is a picture I did not take
of a woman in a black Honda, obliviously skidding through a crosswalk in
the rain into the intersection of 18th and Eureka, coming to a stop in
front of a man dressed like a parking pylon, wearing a bright orange
slicker and bright yellow shoes, a slim six inches from running him over
while she stared at her cell-phone as if it held the answer to a question
that was worth running over a parking pylon in the rain, and when looking
up at him, her lips made a small, tight circle, and her eyebrows rose as
if she were experiencing the first complete thought in her short life, and
when his umbrella smacked down on her windshield, turning itself inside
out like a trumpet flower, she slowly, guiltily stepped on the gas, and
seeing her flee with one hand on the wheel and one still wrapped around
her phone, the man's yellow-shoed foot met her already dented backseat
door (must have been the meeting of a previous pedestrian and a totally
awesome cell-phone call), creating a beautifully satisfying crunch.