Your Receipt, Madame! I think that cars today are almost the exact equivalent of the great Gothic cathedrals. —Roland Barthes, Mythologies The Ferrari’s presence is hot razors star shooting the nebulous ice cream streets. In its pristine, multi-directional mirrors we are background rivers in an AM frequency radio show. It rests in a sleek, solid contrast to the gelatinous spirits of history, which, followed by animals they can’t dissuade, have stopped to turn back to look at me, sugar-saturated, dressed in sugar-crusted copies of my superpoet clothes with countless copies of my current blank look, the same but shadow swarmed…