First Snow: Fury Road

What’s this? What’s this? There’s white things in the air!

I’ll wildly grab my steering wheel and spin it everywhere! The slushy asphalt won’t prove too much to bear, and I’ll stick it too it with aggressive speed and a little less care! Hesitance meekly hiding behind a mask of intelligent caution won’t grab hold of the streets, or keep the drive inline with all the others I’ve been auto-piloting home all fall and summer.

What’s this? A ditch? Outlandish! How could this be where I landed?! If I could be candid I think this is madness and the roads must be worse because last year wasn’t like this! How can we be expected to be flawless when the roads are against us and conspiring a mess regardless of the stress we place on our selves! It’s unfair! A nightmare. No wonder there’s sirens and flashing light in the air with these bullying flakes that don’t care about the disrepair closing streets and blocking exits everywhere!

Tow me away…. And honestly, I bear no blame! It’s insane to think these three lanes can contain all of us the same when the weather’s blowing against the grain and we’re slipping and sliding away! I swear on my name I don’t think I can survive the short days that end this way: slush and mush halting the rush and causing such a fuss!!

From the roadside I prepare to ride in the truck that’s going to try and get me home. I take a last look at the wasteland leading astray man and machine by the hand. What will become of us as the pages of the calendar flip like those of a book left outside as the winter surfaces? Will anything be done to the streets that torment us? Who will we greet the spring as?

We don’t know. We just don’t know.


Boil in the steel belly until there is steam out of your mouth: gushing in to the air in white wisps for seconds before you click stop. It’s you and I tonight conspiring together against the conspiracies of my tightly wound mind, and I’m hoping you’re cooler than I in spite of your scalding ins and outs. There’s probably no resolution for us right here, nothing but raw fingers pulling at the knot’s strings without a clue about how to go about solving this.

A few too many swivels of my chair and blank glances at a blank page stock just enough procrastination that I can see it over the wall: stilted and reflecting. To the window, cold to the touch from the outside but maybe the moisture to break the drought, and outside in the light of a tall lamppost I see the pre-cursor to the coming winter nights. There it is! The reason stepping in to the room while I flail about; the rescuers arriving at the island of wild, pig-worshipping children. I dress to impress and head out in to the welcomeness so unwelcome by car tires sloshing and splashing in its mess. I only walk a bit, take a video and photos, then return inside to watch it through out the window.

It’s a brief reunion before it’s a memory, but their ticket home for the extended stay is only so far away.