And now I'm sitting in an automobile (a super shitty one) at a four-way stop. I choose. I finally get to. I pick which way I go from here, which path is most desirable. Or, if I'm smart, the safest route.
Speaking of routes. This intersection I'm sitting at is fairly interesting. Each road unwinds in a different direction, and none intersect at any other point. Just right here. Right where I am.
To the North lies a road lined in pines. It leads to soft faces, sweet air, warm clothes and bodies in closets.
Leading East is the dirt road which becomes cobblestone, rolling toward an electric city full of musicians, politicians, and disappointment.
The road descending South hasn't got much to offer visually; but its charisma, strength, and perfectly generic appeal are quite enticing. Easy.
And then there's the path leading West. Vast, pushy, and incredibly enough, perplexing as it is: appealing yet unappealing, always showing its true colors under a veil of perception. There are signs everywhere about what a terrible road leads West.
My analytic yet dyslexic brain is screaming 'East', but I'm headed West. Because though I'm sure East is the right direction, there's a roadblock. A fucking cow in the middle of the road, to be precise. But every step of the way, this Western avenue is becoming more inhabited by scary signs of decaying life, withered and dry in its loneliness. The South never sounded so appealing. I turn backward, considering the possibility of a change in course.
But then I can smell them. The pines. They're fresh - earthy and sweet. My smile is instant. My dimple is showing. It's infections. I can see them all smiling, too. All of the unseen bodies inside the closets of the North. But all I can feel is my own, because I'm vibrating. So I wander there, down that road. To the North. Regretfully I look East once more. Fucking cow's still there.
No comments:
Post a Comment