In the middle of Ohio there’s a demolition derby. It’s called Bash for Cash. Or some other rhyming scheme. A flooded farmer’s field covered end to end with RVs and campers. I walk through a maze of drill sergeants and flags and land mines. Never finding an end. I wake feeling confused and lonely. And very old.
Nebraska
Friday, May 15, 2015
In Omaha we walk along an artificial river. Lost, late, looking. For something unknown. Knowing there’s only nothing. The sky turns dark and angry, throws hail at the earth. We run, seeking cover. Finding none, we run. The sky turns blue and bright and the birds come out to play. We find a place of rest. A place with chairs and whiskey. All you want is sleep. But you’re concussed. So I stay up all night telling you stories. So you don’t die.
And Kurt Cobain is still dead
Sunday, May 10, 2015
The snakes are hiding, the tigers are sleeping, the gorillas are fighting. But the penguins are having fun.
It’s only worth anything because the government says so
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
There’s a new girl working at the cold storage. Young, blonde, bright eyes. The line moves so much more slowly now but nobody seems to mind. Someone gave her an expensive looking thing to wear on her finger. But truck drivers are unimpressed by diamond rings.
Freedom is something you assume
Thursday, April 23, 2015
The woman who collects my piss is standoffish. She issues orders in curt voice. Tells me to empty my pockets, tells me to wash my hands. She’s a police wearing scrubs. When I’m finished, she’s standing outside the door. She smiles. “Show off,” she says. Which confuses me. Peeing is easy.
Deadly force was authorized
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
The night before Christmas. Rain falls steadily from low clouds. We are refugees in a downtown bar. We chase the acid with Irish whiskey. Chase the whiskey with PBR. There’s a bell next to the door. We stand there giving angels their wings until the bartender invites us to leave. We walk home through the rain, our clothes growing heavy. We steal firewood from behind a frat house with the idea that a fire would be nice, this night before Christmas. At the apartment, we turn on every light, but the wood won’t catch. It smolders like a living thing. Fills the room with thick white smoke. We open the windows, go out to the fire escape, try to light a joint. We invent a language. The fire alarm goes off, our neighbors wake. We wait for Santa, wait for Godot. We wait for the police to come arrest us.
It was a fucked up thing, what God did to Judas
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
We’ll go to Vesuvio and sit upstairs. From a table in the corner we’ll watch the 41 come and go, the tourists going into City Lights, the sailors coming out of the Condor. We’ll talk about religion and politics and death. We’ll drink whiskey and beer and wine. We’ll pretend to write poetry. And pretend we’re changing the world.
Cosmic dust or space junk, it all burns the same
Friday, February 27, 2015
Sometimes a driver dies in his truck. And not in some crash on some highway. But dies in his sleep. At some truck stop. And maybe he’s not found for four or five days. After he stops calling his wife. After he fails to deliver his load. And really nobody’s in a hurry to find him. A wife looking for her husband. A company looking for its load. His truck passed four or five times a day by an employee emptying the trash.
Out there on the edge of Kansas, satellites fall through the sky
Monday, February 23, 2015
It’s a strange thing, dying on the Interstate. All the angry people honking their horns, in such a hurry to get to where they have to go. And the State Troopers, with their stern faces and flashing blue lights, blocking the lanes. And tenderly covering you with a green blanket.
An Idaho Beauty Queen Working a Washington Truck Stop
Thursday, February 12, 2015
She stares out the window, pretending to control the weather.
I take another hit. Pretend to order a pizza.
There’s a flutter in my chest, like I just missed a breath.
I would pretend to go to a doctor.
But I know what I’ll be told.
And the Netflix plays on and on.