slogging through poetic irony/envisioning grunge era combat boots

As the dutiful ticket hander-outer and general inspirer of parking dread that you are, you will come to find that quantum physics and the 4 Non Blonds make some of the best listening material while mucking through your gravel lots.





High ground still holds its magnetic power over me only now it's not so much chairs, tables, or counters. I find myself walking along parking blocks and retaining walls as I make my rounds. I tap pad the tickets into a gadget about the size and weight of those Saved by the Bell cell phones and my hip slung printer gurgles them out. In the seconds of print-waiting, if I happen to be listening to some moving jams, I stare up at the trees, do a little twist and tap my toes on my cement balance-beam perch. Yes, as promised K$, I've been dancing on the job.