Beyond a gravel pit and the candy red swirl slides which hedge my campsite porta-home, there slaps a derby racer against the midnight surface of Cannon Falls Lake. A pop country tune stinks the silence and the last camper unfurls their tent in a ritual that will be repeated more times this summer than I am ready to predict. A soft clatter pecks away at the keys from my tent as I whisper simple language to the ether. I should be finishing the article. The one past deadline. One toe in my past life. I forgot to shut off my pg&e.. One more toe. I never registered for finical aid.. The foot of my corpse begins stir.
I have no idea what I am getting into.
I have no idea how great good is about to get.
See, suddenly work and play are having a threesome with obligation, they are dialing up speechlessness with a spare hand telling it to bring hysteria on over, there is a row of well tuned bikes out front and the clamor of anticipation is resounding though the deep blue heavens.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment