28.07.07
4. The Candidate
When you first see the harbingers of the candidate, you have trouble counting how many eyes they have. Maybe it’s the rain, slick, too shimmery, or maybe it’s how tightly they move in formation, or how they blink in unison at every corner.
Seven, you think it is. Red, blue, two orange, two a sort of silvery brown, and one white hot, dead center. Don’t look at that one. Look down. Just listen to the soothing buzz of their approach. The harbinger’s buzz. I hear it tells you things you ought not know.
(Presidential candidate’s arrival, 1988)
