Occasionally, the trees'll thin and behind the green you'll see houses, defrocked land, a space wide and devoid of growth, where people live. You see where people have decided to plant themselves. You see this in the road as well. We've taken what we need or want and (seemingly) left everything else to be as it be. Swamps. Swamps with clear vodka water, blue shinning like tinfoil with trees poking up like the hair of a dead god, water-logged drowned. Checking out cute boys in (Jasper) a small town where one probably shouldnt check out the cute boys. There was a guy at the table across form us at the shitty slow dull cold cheap(ish) burger bar where we stopped for lunch. Seemed to play ball, would have slipped somwhere secret with him. Ozarks. There's a little place in most town, full of junk and memories, or more junk as some would call the latter. In there they hid so many things by selling them to anyone ho walked by, came inside, and waste their money. Boxes of vinyls (Gershwin, random classical, opera boxes, old pop, christian whatever, Gregorian chants) that are washed flimsy with water and time, a basket of wine corks (mostly from cheap yellow tail wine), Buddhist postcards, books from some local about ghosts, horror vhs tapes, tucked away, junk, a nook were books are hid, junk. In the book's nook there's an assortment, some of which clearly from a collection owned by someone not of the same cloth of the shop owner's. Hesse's Steppenwolf, b&w book about Pop Art, old art academy yearbooks, old old decay, mixed in with a ton of vaguely christian things and bibles. got a copy of The Poet Assassinated there. It was weird. Weird. Someone cool came by and hocked their stuff. A bucket of tiny hand charms on the counter. 'Look at this,' she's flipping thru it, does she even know what it is? i doubt she cares too much, 'this'll be interesting.' She fiddles with faddel. Get's a bag 'I bought a bunch of weird books off some odd lady.' I wish I'd met her. 'Do you really need a bag?' she said it jokingly, her tone was light, happy, she didnt have a negative reaction to the all weirdness of whomever she bought it off of. 'No.' I need to see some cute boys. Cant fuck any, Im sure, but it's nice to see them around. I had never heard of Apollinaire a few days before. Dennis fixed that. Thanks Dennis. Road. Back towards the. The rocks on the side of the road, the boulders, showed their heads like whales breaking through the top of the ocean. Standing on the side of the highway showing their gray white brown orange shade to the sun, water seeps from the cracks. Like they're crying. Stop. Rest stop. Gas. In side we piss, get whatever whatever -- Strawberry cheese muffins: red like a well spanked ass cheek. Some chick gets abducted, in the story, it turns out noce for her, dhe gets away and lives. We find ourselves where we're meant to be.
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