Was up in the hills over Burbank watching the lights and dreaming of my future.

Nothing clears my head more than getting up above and looking down on sleepy homes, tiny ant sized cars, colorful lights, the flicker of distant Police car Red strobes, airport tower beacons, helicopter searchlights, mercury vapor lamps along darken streets...

Layers of mist separate me and the distant mountains like frost on glass, the gauze of stockings hanging on the nightstand lampshade, my memories of simpler times.

Driving by warm homes at night, windows aglow with the television or computer screens, the activity of happy families inside, I wonder what they do for a living that brought them to have these houses.

I make up stories in my head for answers.

Did the widow down the street meet the divorced retired aerospace engineer at her yardsale and start a romance while her kids were away at college?

Did world of porn pay for this beautiful house?

Did the people that fell asleep and died in this house while a car was left running in the garage haunt the family that lives there now, but never knew the homes history even though their real estate agent and neighbors do?

Driving at night when most sane people are asleep between clean cool 1000 thread count sheets and the streets are empty makes one feel there are limitless possibilities and a million stories waiting to be discovered.

Maybe someone will discover me and my story.