OCR Text |
Show 38 FLASHING When I think about Las Vegas I think about sunshine. I think about my church that teaches me to avoid gambling and sin. I think about Las Vegas High School, my teachers and the subjects that will help me to meet the challenges of l i f e , and I think about my father who protects me from "this Godless city." But when I step outside of my house, I stop thinking and start to feel. On the way to school I can feel the night s t i l l happening. The wash of morning light over Sunrise Mountain never quite cleans i t away. When I walk past Mr. Egglash's (he plays in the Dunes' orchestra), I can feel last night's flute music hovering just outside the drawn blinds. t When I walk past Mr. Fox's green pebble grass (he owns the 24-hour delicatessen on the Strip), I can smell lox, bagels, and d i l l s , and hear coins tumbling out of his kosher slot machines. The street sweeper drives by in an orange machine with a whirling brush, but he can't clean up the night either. His brush swirls used condoms, half cigars and broken glass, leaving bits and pieces behind. When I look at the mountains surrounding the valley, I see cleavages. Breasts really matter here. You can't get a tourist or a dealer or anyone |