Friday, August 6, 2010

you are the hole in my head and I am the pain in your neck.

You blaze like wildfire over hilled highway. The Nevada desert is carpeted with sage and paved with sand. The asphalt beneath your treads burns in the rearview, comic-book heat lines dripping upward like an antigravity faucet.

Rising above the 200-ft lump bequeaths unto you a valley and more highway than your eyes can properly establish. The whole thing seems to be equally divided by the blacktop: to your left, gray clouds hover above red rock, and to your right, blue sky kisses the tips of a distant canyon.

But you? You're right down the middle. You leave a wake of exhaust(ion) and keep an eye on the odometer because you're a man with a half-tank of gas, a cooler full of turkey sandwiches, and a destination.

Your car is drifted to the side of the road. Hazard lights ignite to the precise rhythm of the Replacements song pouring from your blown speakers. You pee into a small hole in the ground, manage to strike a passing tumbleweed, and re-enter the car two pounds lighter.

You're fresh as a daisy, itching for velocity, eyes on the horizon, wondering what's around the bend.

California's coming. Are you ready?

2 comments:

Joanna Brimhall said...

"The asphalt beneath your treads burns in the rearview, comic-book heat lines dripping upward like an antigravity faucet." - Favorite line.

I like this. I think I really. like it.

ashley said...

Am I the pain in your neck?

Your bravery and elegance with first-person reminds me of Chuck Palahniuk.