backforthmenu The Morning Hula. It rained hard last night. This morning there are 1,000 shimmering hula dancers on the hood of my car. I turn the beast over and point it into my drive to work. The dancers jump ship, one by one. It’s 8am and already the sun is a big ball of fire. By the time I reach the office, the sky is glowing. The thrown-up cement warehouses vibrate against the blue. I close my eyelids for a few seconds and sparks fly. I open them and things are even brighter through a squint. An old plane farts by... sharp in the glowing blue field. I go inside, get behind my desk. 7/20/99