The firm, barred back of this ancient, wooden chair bites into my back and I flash back to the dim yet burning sensations of my youth. I took a stroll today. Through the park in which the red, ufo of a carosel stood immobile in the dry, bitter wind. Where the chains of the swings jingled greetings to their old solitary friend as I passed. I circumnavigated the pit of a swimming pool, protected from molestation by ragged and crumbling chain-link fences. My feet kicked up dust along the shoulders of the old Alpine highway and passers-by gave glanced at me oddly as if I had been naked without the ugly bulk of automobile clothing hanging about me. Entering the ‘Alamo Grocery’ where a piece of gum used to cost one cent and four years prior, my handsome friend, Chris Bender, bought at least six lottery tickets, I thought momentarily of purchasing a Root Beer but then decided with a stupid simper on my face to get a Snapple instead.
Fucking America again.
