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Nineteen fifty-seven, the year of the best Chevrolet, close on to eleven o’clock in a truck-stop outside of Kearney, Nebraska. Needle flirting with Empty and the windshield full of moth-splatter. Just over halfway there–too far to turn back. Too late and too far and no reason to turn back.
Half-drunk on lost hope, driving cross-country on the ragged edge of unreason, reluctant to pause even long enough to fill the tank and empty the bladder. Living on Jerry Lee Lewis when the radio works. Dwelling on what happened–half rage and half heartache, full throttle.
Walking back to the car, there is no sound except the stridulation of crickets and the grudging scrape and shuffle of rough-heeled boots on late summer asphalt.
Photo "3483229748" not found (invalid ID)Photo "3483229748" not found (invalid ID)Photo "3483229748" not found (invalid ID)Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, greg fallis and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
