packing snow, mittens, and an SUV dream
After breakfast, this morning I spent some time in the town barbershop, talkin politic, watching the candycane spin and hair fall. In an hour we moved through weather, regional economics, mideast policy and powerball odds. Drove out into the countryside, saw line after line of clothes drying in the freezing air, fuckin amish.
In target, the people were desperate, almost foaming at the mouth, no smiles from the sexless and presentless. In the Liquor store everyone seemed happy. For buckeyes everything in Indiana is cheaper, including single malt scotch. Toured around uptown in awe of the endless old houses and mansions 1861, 1883, 1892, turrets, columns, brick, stone, wood. Wood from trees that sprouted in 1741, that grew to maturity in old growth forests.
Saw a girl I went to school with, she was ugly with twins. Drove on the national road west past little towns, fields and forests. Doing 75 with the music loud, the snow started in, as a mail order bride might. By the time four glasses of wine were in me, there were 4 inches of snow on the ground.
Out in the night walking, the snow erased line and edge. No road, grass, field and drive but only a white blanket. The snow is not quiet early, only late, as it must beat the dry crispy leaves, empty soy pods and broken beaten corn stalks into clean white submission. The rumble of the snow plow interrupted distant thoughts of animatronic reindeer, blow up santa dolls bobbing in the wind and projected slide-show cliched holiday imagery to bring me home. Walking in the snow at night the sky is not light but dark and the earth is not dark but white.
In target, the people were desperate, almost foaming at the mouth, no smiles from the sexless and presentless. In the Liquor store everyone seemed happy. For buckeyes everything in Indiana is cheaper, including single malt scotch. Toured around uptown in awe of the endless old houses and mansions 1861, 1883, 1892, turrets, columns, brick, stone, wood. Wood from trees that sprouted in 1741, that grew to maturity in old growth forests.
Saw a girl I went to school with, she was ugly with twins. Drove on the national road west past little towns, fields and forests. Doing 75 with the music loud, the snow started in, as a mail order bride might. By the time four glasses of wine were in me, there were 4 inches of snow on the ground.
Out in the night walking, the snow erased line and edge. No road, grass, field and drive but only a white blanket. The snow is not quiet early, only late, as it must beat the dry crispy leaves, empty soy pods and broken beaten corn stalks into clean white submission. The rumble of the snow plow interrupted distant thoughts of animatronic reindeer, blow up santa dolls bobbing in the wind and projected slide-show cliched holiday imagery to bring me home. Walking in the snow at night the sky is not light but dark and the earth is not dark but white.