ideas with no tangibility;
ideas with irrelevant supports;
ideas without value;
ideas' witlessness;
ideas' witnesses;



On a Greyhound...

I'm in South Carolina, or maybe Georgia. A long way from Maine - don't remind
me. Or do.

I have made it out of Lewiston.

The most tearful goodbye was my sidekick with whom I have resolved to join in
four months. I'm considering returning to Lewiston because I am so worried
about her alone in the colloquial "dirty Lew". Atlanta is 130 miles away, so
this must not be Georgia.

I wouldn't go to Hell if it was the only way I could see her. But if it was the
only remaining way to see my sidekick I would think about departing every hour.
Now the notion for myself is out of the question, completely, absolutely, not
even by accident. I'm more careful now. Fewer risks taken. Healthier choices.
Which isn't to say our separation would destroy us. We take measures to ensure
minimal if any codependency. But a wrongful separation, too soon or too early,

The skyline has McDonald's, Arby's, Exxon. It could be a Maine skyline if the
Makku didn't have neon on its fringe, if the gas station was by a different
name, if there wasn't also a Waffle House. I hadn't seen a BP gas station in
my life until Virginia or so when I first noticed a "green Irving".

Anderson, South Carolina. I need to take my estrogen. Done. I am so thoroughly
farther from the place from which I was I can already scarcely remember the
sparse urbanoid environment. The forested ghetto.

The local accent has in common with mine that Atlanta is "et LANna". I wonder
what the older, thicker Maine accent would say.

Next stop: Gainsville, Georgia, if I spelled it right. I'd like to go to a
Waffle House. I wonder if they have vegan options.


No rights reserved, all rights exercised, rights turned to lefts, left in this
corner of the web.