Thursday, June 14, 2012

Newt and Cathy rolled down the road, and now it's just me and the silence.

In the distance, blotchy diseased-looking mountains endure the relentless grinding heat. There are no shadows, no shade, no relief, no respite. Across the flat expance between me and the mountains, withered creosote bakes, and looses just a tiny bit more of what green coloration is left, with each passing furnace-like day.

Nothing moves.

Nothing happens.

The Hell Trailer laughs in its face, and I'm having trouble supressing a few giggles myself, looking up at the bamboo-framed waves coming in, overhead.