19 March 2011

He Got Lost

It was sunny and warm, the day he got lost.  As the car rolled to a stop in the weeds beside the road, coming to rest against an ancient telephone pole, he opened the door to step out, and fell.  He scraped his knees.  The blood soaked through the linen.  He swore.

The road was little more than a gesture to asphalt.  It twisted its way through the scrub and dust, pretending it went somewhere.  "Just like me", he grunted, "and I'm damned if I know which way to go."

A passel of trees hunched over the road a few yards beyond the pole.  The shade they offered seemed more like the minimum needed to be polite, but it was shade just the same.

He sighed, and pulled a knapsack out of the back seat of the now dead car.  The dusty bag held two bottles of water, a map of Canada and some beef jerky.  From the glove compartment of the car he took a tire gauge, a Pez dispenser (cherry candies, his favorite) and a well-thumbed copy of Dave Black's What To Do When The Shit Hits The Fan.  The irony of the title was not lost on him.  Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he walked to the trees to sit in the shade.

It was warm.  He was lost.  And he knew by the ragged gnawing in his gut, spiked with panic, that he had no fucking clue what to do next.

5 comments:

  1. For a second I thought it was Calvin all grown up and continuing to run away from home! Then I realised that Hobbes was missing.

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  2. "The shade they offered seemed more like the minimum needed to be polite, but it was shade just the same."

    That whole exercise was worth it just for that sentence.

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  3. I have had that feeling of being lost with no clue what to do next.

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  4. I don't know why but this reminded me of my grandpa...before we had to take away his keys.

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"Let your laws come undone
Don't suffer your crimes
Let the love in your heart take control..."


-'The Hair Song', by Black Mountain

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