Pepper

There is no moon, no stars, no ceiling, just black from the ground up.  Pepper takes my hand and leads me down a path I can't see and up a bushy hill underneath the Hollywood Freeway.  A few yards away, burning tobacco, floating red fireflies, low moans and evil spells.  People who I can't see, vampires and werewolves.  Somebody barks like a dog, he says, Bark bark motherfucker.  Six yards above me cars are flying by, hissing like snakes at ninety miles an hour.  I'm high on drugs, crack cocaine, which at this moment, I highly recommend.

Pepper knows the inhabitants of this impromptu cemetery.   She knows the route around the gravestones and dead-ends.  Somebody flips their Bic and I see the painted backdrop of my dreams.  I tell Pepper, Go thataway. 

Pepper consults me regarding wardrobe and we decide she should open her shirt, expose her breasts, and pull her pants down.  When I hit the shutter the flash is brilliant and beautiful and Pepper is a vision of innocence and purity.

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