they lived together for a few months under the same roof, eating out of the same dishes. he found it strange to see another person when he woke up, to not be surrounded by silence. he rarely slept at night, working until dawn on drawings, scribbling incoherent notes in the margins. the drawings began to become dense with lines on top of lines, until the entire page appeared black. his hands were stained with ink, she had to leave. he didnt even realize it until two days had passed when she called, she was already two states away.

--las vegas, nevada
interstate 15 : asphalt freeway. views framed by outlet mall billboards. A pickup truck, battling against friction, pushes ahead against a deep blue sky. Snow birds crawl south clogging the sun-bound lanes. Joan is driving a red pickup, charlie in the passenger seat. At an intersection of two freeways the truck turns off following the signs to eagle pass. they communicate in the cab through deliberate bursts of shouting over the wind.

she prefered talking to strangers
knowing they wouldnt remember her stories. her job took her across the country checking air quality, she got extra pay for being away, but she didnt tell her company that she didnt have a home, she sold her trailer months ago. her days were spent driving between stations, listening to a used dylan tape she bought at a thrift store.


polar inertia 2003

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