Saturday, January 01, 2011

A town of trucks

So many of us have terrible fathers, and we go back to them. So many of us have terrible mothers, and we stay with them. Tell me the difference. It’s New Year’s Day, and snow is blowing off the rooftops like glitter. I used to wonder about people who got up before noon on New Year’s Day. I used to wonder about people who got up before noon.

This is a town of trucks, and I wake up with so much pain in my gut. You know: pain. This is a town of trucks, and I don’t mean that in the way you think. I’m not talking about class, maybe not even masculinity, not right now, anyway. I’m talking about driving, gravel, ice, exhaust. This is a town of trucks, and the snow is blowing off the rooftops like glitter. It’s New Year’s Day, and I’m thinking about everyone I’ve lost. 7 degrees outside, but it’s so sunny. Why are there no postcards of the desert in winter?

2 comments:

Campbell B. said...

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/142/367703622_66ce94d9fe.jpg

Sorry that you're a little sad and not feeling well at the start of the New Year.

I often wonder about people who get up before noon too, but of course those are people who probably actually sleep at night. :-)

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Thank you, Campbell -- and now I'm one of those people who gets up before noon, who knew?

The photo is unavailable, for some reason -- unavailable, indeed!

Happy new year!

Love --
mattilda