A few years back I made my way across the northern plane. I was traveling with a couple I knew the girl she had long brown hair and the boy also did.
From Oregon we passed through Twin Falls Idaho and continued north through Wyoming. On back roads we happened upon a van parked in a field underneath a set of trees and the limbs looked like someone's arms broken into a thousand ways after mangled with a sledge hammer maybe and then hung with clothes pins from a an old metal clothing line. under these branches a group of nomadic kids yelled to us, all in their twenties maybe all a little older than me. They offered and we drank homemade moonshine with them and I traded my shoes to one of the kids for some really good speed.
The couple left without me and the van of these hippies were headed the opposite direction from where I needed to be, I persuaded them to drop me off at the nearest highway. A man picked me up and took me home where his wife was and I showered there and I had to kick the mud off that was on my feet. I argued with the man as we ate stew and cornbread he ccalled me a communist. Remembering old Pasolini films I've watched I began to identify with his constant references. He was a fascist libertine who's wife reassured that I stay the night. The soup bowls were the fancy ones from those dinnerware sets in department stores and I threw the bowl at the window farthest but directly in front of me breaking it.
He fell in love with the idea of prostitution as I beckoned with God. His thoughts conceived my own and so my attempts at freedom had to manifest in somethin other than a physical ideal.
Waking up tied to a chair with dirty cloth in the kitchen I remembered Bertolucci films and how the women were glorified in a pragmatic light, to me anyhow. If it made sense when I undid myself from t he cloths I heard the man waking up at the sound of my consciousness. His wife was in the kitchen and ignored me as I picked through the cupboards. wrapping tinfoil around my head would hide me for sure. I saw 3 gutted fish on the counter and crucified and bleeding roe out onto the floor, they still twitched and breathed. the wife sat on the floor, she had blonde hair that was graying. From under the sink where she sat in front of I pushed her to the side and she was lifeless in body except her head which kept sayin
"i aint afraid of no devil, i aint afraid of the d evil , i aint afrid of the devil cause , I aint afrain of the dev il....."
Drinking a glass of bleach my throat kept inside secrets and so the invader not able to hear me think I showered again. Both the man and the wife said I could borrow the truck if I abandon it somewhere off highway 463 by Old Crows. I must have walked a whole day before I was picked up again this time by another old ma n who told me about a Thai girl he used to love and I had something like that I was thinking of an the old Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton movie "golf antics" and that was maybe one of my favorites and how I couldn't stop laughing at the groundhog who steals all of the golf balls until Buster Keaton shoots the groundhog, I did that too sometimes. I had this friend and her name wasn't important but she'd laugh alot. The man said "did she have big titties" and I don't know if she died but I made my way across the northern plane. the man said "I'm not afraid of the devil , I'm not afraid of the devil, I' not afraid of no devil" and he always smelled like sawdust.