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
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.