Sent on one thing in advance, FedEx, cause I knew where I was going. I would just pick it up when I got my new feet on the ground, and a couple irons in the fire. But that was pretty basically it: my backpack stuffed with stuff till the seams nearly popped, and $40 cash…my dear friends bought me the ticket cause The Goddess Blesses Though Not Limited To: happy clowns, kittens, Mad Dogs & Englishmen, and “the child that has its own” from what I hear. I didn’t have my own. So in spite of it all, as mentioned; I left…
The next life wasn’t so shitty; as it was different. And that all started when I came into town. A Greyhound full of cramp’y people gathering up all twisting their necks around from trying to sleep somehow then impatiently glaring at the driver as he dallies with a studied sloth before opening the cargo bay, crabby kids wriggling in their seats & mother’s arms or a dad; maybe a dad who knows: slapping the back of a head, twisting a little arm into shock & silence after miles & miles of darkness past milk stops with only a light here or there, bouncing headlights so far off they look like little diamonds. A gas station/liquor store with a busted out: window. Rain smudged signs: 10 for $1, 3 for $5; Closed: Out Of Business, Under New Management, Rock Garden/Lapidary/Agates, No Services Next 135 miles;
But sunshine too shining down bathed on amber waves of teeming grain, tall-ass corn that made me think about that nasty kid that sent people there for no good reason the little shit…sunflowers, some produce so low “not much taller than my ankles” is what I thought at the time, but so small and far away I couldn’t really tell what they were and all past purple-mountain’s, and their majesty. Tractors that seemed to be growing little more than dust clouds, out where the buffalo used to roam I guess. And giant, walking rain birds spritzing huge volumes of water in great & low arcs & droplets soaking the ground, moistening the air as birds swoop in & out of the rainbows they cause, some pecking for prize on the: ground. But then,
Just another bus station full of stale Kit Kat’s & warm-flat-Pepsi, rock hard Juicy Fruit gum, and people heading off to somewhere else, in some other direction, some in the direction I just came from, their grim & staring faces beside restrooms that provided little rest while harboring stank, ill stench instead if still somehow lined with long since outdated, cracked & broken tiles. Ah, riding the dog…
Still…thank The Goddess it was done. I was there, I am here. Some say here is where you are supposed to be, here, though I do have certain & specific thoughts about that as well.
But when ‘the dog’ rolled into the depot I flat-out longed for a proper fascist like Roberto Mussolini anyways making his trains, and I presume his buses too, run on time; cause ours was some 2 hours, 40 minutes early jeebus! Too early to expect my dearest friends here to forgo their regimen just to come and pick me up I resolved to wait.
In either event can you believe that even ‘the dog’ actually gave an excuse for being too early at times like this? You can? Then can you believe that the excuse the driver read into the coach, to us: his bleary eyed cast of wee, early, early morning travelers with cricks in our necks wondering now just why we were rumbling otherwise motionless beside yet another corn field in the dead of night, where unlit dark nothingness resides on the other like a black hole, a creepy sentient thing; from the bent corners of a piece of crumpled paper, miles & miles before this moment in time; was itself time & date stamped by the DHLS? With a strange little bar-code thingy issued by the DOD? Cause he actually showed some of us? Cause some of us were a little skeptical? Yeah?
Then this little story is for you.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=216x3994