I suddenly experience a pseudo-flashback that is subtly but compellingly of psychedelic persuasion. The scene, stark and startlingly illuminated, is blanketed with the sun’s bright relief. I blink involuntarily down a river of steel and plasticine which radiate sheaves of bright colorful frequencies into the cerulean expanse above; they scurry forward apprehensively into a flood that holds and swells until a generous green smear replaces that baleful red glare. The jangle of glint-light rivulets into thinning color and intensifying brightness.
Constant motion concretely reigns in this verdant vista. The trees wave and sway aggressively as their branches, feathery in the heat-haze that simmers in the distance and coarsely bright at a stone’s throw, surge with some unseen force that frolics about, shifting leafy hues to subtle shade after shade into a faux phosphorescence: a patchwork of life and light, moved by a force that is unseen but not unfelt.
Its sweet smell of cut grass, for once strong enough to mask the stink of exhaust, buffets me through the driver’s side window as I coast down this rolling hill of Kansas. This slope penetrates deep suburb, into a congealing glut of apartment complexes and condos, and as it parabolas upward, know it is one of many that wrinkle east toward the higher wilds of Missouri. My brakes clatter but the bright moment doesn’t shatter; it instead imperceptibly deposits me once more to a halt on a hot street that waits for the green signal.
A thirst finds me and I grip-crackle my empty water bottle.