Wednesday, June 08, 2005

Just another guy

The thing here. (Thing, he sd?) Well the travelers cloud dissipated and returned. The thing, or that which, could only be returned. Left Flagstaff on a downfall, sleepily. But nowhere to fucking sleep. So a cowpasture near two guns Arizona and Diablo’s gulch. Wonderful. Hard brakes to save rabbit, everything in back seat now in front. Electric storm, so damn dark, freezing (to pass the time). Wrapped upright in front seat on pills listening to the wind and the birds in their cage ruffling feathers before sleep. Drink more water (for want of letting it all go). That's the first time you've bn chipped like that old boy (no it isnt). Bleary sunrise, and off. Fillup and bad coffee with powdered cream. Scribble in book, clouds rolling in, rain. Next stop..Dalhart TX. Everywhere smlls of cowshit. Quickstop girl, red hair crossed eyes sells me beer. I want to tell her she’s pretty and that she’ll leave this town one day, and to have hope. I don’t. I say, 'have a good night', she grunts and lights a cigarette. Inn keeper doesn’t trust me. NY license, Kansas Plate, ‘where you commin from’ tucson. ‘where are you headed’ east. She is Indian, and the lobby is filled with the smell of curry. I say something stupid and offensive like, ‘I love the smell of curry’. I really do. She grunts and lights a cigarette/ reluctant keys, more pills, beer. Now I wonder if I ever will leave. Ac too loud, trucks pass every 30 seconds, shaking the bed. I watch out the window for some time blowing smoke through the screen. Just trucks and lightning. Sleep. Woke up twisting, shaking the grime of motel bedspread, shower scrub. Fillup and bad coffee with powdered cream. Scribble in book, flies on the make, many dead armadillos. Speed a little through TX, Ok. Get the hell out. Golden plains, flatlands. A pheasant, size of a three year old. It wants to cross. ‘Lift up! Lift up damn you!’ We make eye contact. Snap imagine tear forming, its eye pleading, as if to say... ‘now, lord?’…It bounces off the windshield. First car kill. Drag it off the road by its wing, all those colors, so beautiful. Move on, NPR’s finally coming in, oak trees and sunflower seeds.

1 comment:

Jordan said...

"by that car or by
the driver himself, fat
chance

to get even,
passing him, turning, keeping
up."

--Gil Ott

"trained to love
the equation
it meets
the other side
telling
this thing
by the instant
to get a
move on"

--some guy