Your flying Peugeot's

You sleep in the night of hardened snow, and your flying Peugeot's float, either telekinesised or stolen by the macarras.

So that the corner of your house gets January-congealed while they levitate through un-policed arrabales.

But, what is that? What is that agglomeration of people dancing like negroes on the flying Peugeot's that levitate in the middle of the bocacalle?

And it's jaw-dropping how it all looks like a blue discotheque in Gotham City.


You sleep and envision it on VHS sequences through the Sanyo of your mind.