Today is defeated by the cell phone.

Today is defeated by the cell phone taking calls from the traffic jam that began before you awoke, jammed in freeways of the night city.

Today is defeated by Griffith Park wilted in insufficient shade of microwave towers, California burning to ashes of corny rock & roll. Somebody else’s tune, somebody’s number, you were overheard saying.

Today is defeated by woman on cell phone running a stop sign, gabbing her way into 999,999.99 brightly colored sprinkles of slavery, genocide and a Ford 150 overloaded with yard waste.

Today is defeated by a cell phone in the form of a traffic jam, jammed up in a dream.

Get off the line. Make the gesture that sweeps numbers off your name.

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