'Where else but on the lane was there such a merry, early morning chirping going on at every hour of the day and night? The barkers and cardinals and meadow larks all seemed to sing together:
'"Lookie, lookie, lookie! Invent now! Be a millionaire by noon!"
'Broken Bench Lane was the gaudiest-appearing of all those little streets and ways that tumbled and twisted down the green slopes all the way from Standpipe Hill to the south edge of town till they disappeared in the verdant haze beyond which, in the misty distance, rose Beautiful Downtown Broken Arrow. There were not streets and arteries like these everywhere, not like this bunch: Jenks Road, Clown Alley, Harrow Street, Five Shill Road, Lollywaggers' Left-Hand Lane, Speckled Fish Road, Leptophlebo Street, Trotting Snake road, Broken Bench Lane! And the brightest jewel of them all was Broken Bench...
'These streets are not necessarily located in the order here given. There are many other streets, better kept and broader, that intrude between these. Half of these arteries are not even proper streets in the sense of accepting vehicular traffic; they are mere pedestrian walks or paths or alleys. (Broken Bench was in between the categories in that it accepted vehicles, but for only one hour a day.)
'Quentan Whitebird, in his monumental work Forgotten Lanes and Byways of Tulsa, refers to this cluster of little streets (plus four others, and with Lollygaggers' unaccountably left out) as "dream streets". Well, there is a green haze over all of them that is very like a summer afternoon sleep. Even in the brightness and hustle of some of them, there is always this noddiness or nappiness. And there is the frightening snapping-out of it also, and the raffish terror at realizing that one hasn't quite snapped out of the spell after all...
'Broken Branch was the brightest and most hustling of all those little roads. What factories and shops there were there! What venture-houses! What money coining enterprises! What dreams that had taken flesh in solid crab-orchard stone with tomorrow-glass facades! There were bustling manufactories and tall financial empires and inventories (well, what do you call the studios where inventors work?). There was all the flowing lifeblood of newness. The Lane was so crammed with newness that those who visited it only once a day were always dumbfounded by the changes in it. Here were the waves of the future sold by the gallon or barrel or oceanful.'
-R. A. Lafferty, 'The Funny Face Murders' (1980)