it strikes me how mute these cars at night look with their brilliantly lit headlamps. twin beams (stereolux sounds nice) lit up, eyes without mouths, machines passing by, their only cries being the sound of tire rubber unsticking itself against asphalt, not the friction itself but the lift of rubber from hot and ultraviscous asphalt like a silent murmur rippling its way through an audience, except fast and rapid enough that this murmur sounds less like a forest and more like a dull roar.

somewhere in australia a funnel of pitch waits decades to drip.