PM1302103
A crisis of wills or perhaps a lack
of will completely leaves us all so
disillusioned and ready to jump aboard
the next train to oblivion.
I have been on that train before,
the AmTrak or Via express into the
wild blue yonder,
throwing all caution to the wind
and givng your wallet and keys to
the conductor and telling
him that you won't be needing
them anymore.
I watch out the window and noticing
the trees I have to wonder if
they have paid any attention
to me.
They must know I am on the road
to somewhere but do they know my
destination?
Does the information get passed on
from tree to tree until it is stopped
by the ocean and is there
some kind of transatlantic plant
telephone line that allows the air
breathing plants to communicate with
the seaweed and coral.
Ask a tree in Denver what the
weather is like in Bangor and will
it take more than a day to
get the message back to you? I can't
imagine waiting that long, it probably
only takes seconds.
I did talk to a tree in Denver once
but I was not concerned about the
weather in Maine.
I was more concerned about the
quickest route to Las Vegas and whether
a snowstorm in the Rockies was going
to hinder our progress.
Thankfully the snow was not bad
enough to affect our trip but thanks
to Thomas Pynchon I have always
feared dynamite attacks in Colorado
just as I feared rocket attacks in
London and anything that contained
a banana.
Back on the train it pulls into Los
Angeles and I have completed the
transcontinental journey that did not
end in oblivion as I had expected.
Instead I arrive at a Taco stand
early in the morning and miscalculate
the amount of hot sauce my mouth can
handle, but I would never throw the
taco away.
Capitol Records looms in the distance and I
fear Al-Quaeda, swooping in over the desert.
MCC
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