(no subject)
in irvington:
the satellite dish was like a saucer for the heavens. it held nothing but stale, sepia, kentucky air: accented with the yellow flavour of goldenrods & fumes from pickups. it was a backyard beacon. a link to other countries dispelled from the skies. before that other country mattered, but after it was no longer a magical land.
i could hear small town baseball commentary lying on my stomach when the golden hour came. it was two miles away, but my father's voice thundered--relentless, filling the whole town with strikes of the diamond. there, dust flew, a snocone dripped, the bleachers groaned.
the twilight was always brown, antiqued, dilapidated. still with the lingering taste of cut grass & wild onions. i would push my nose against the window screen & smell the mixed scents with the metal, leaving imprints of squares and non-existent city blocks. gravel crunched.
i would hide inside my carpeted cavern, tuning the radio dial, holding the antenna like a torch toward the north. before that direction had ulterior meaning.
i think i was eleven, or something else impressionable.
the satellite dish was like a saucer for the heavens. it held nothing but stale, sepia, kentucky air: accented with the yellow flavour of goldenrods & fumes from pickups. it was a backyard beacon. a link to other countries dispelled from the skies. before that other country mattered, but after it was no longer a magical land.
i could hear small town baseball commentary lying on my stomach when the golden hour came. it was two miles away, but my father's voice thundered--relentless, filling the whole town with strikes of the diamond. there, dust flew, a snocone dripped, the bleachers groaned.
the twilight was always brown, antiqued, dilapidated. still with the lingering taste of cut grass & wild onions. i would push my nose against the window screen & smell the mixed scents with the metal, leaving imprints of squares and non-existent city blocks. gravel crunched.
i would hide inside my carpeted cavern, tuning the radio dial, holding the antenna like a torch toward the north. before that direction had ulterior meaning.
i think i was eleven, or something else impressionable.