It's Friday
So, here we go again. A prose poem. It's about going to
The ride is silent. Only the CBC would care about broadcasting here, in the night, on the abandoned prairie. The signs of travel are strewn about me - one empty Coke bottle, an empty bag of beef jerky (hot ‘n’ sweet this time), a handful of French fries from McDonalds. All filling space where my passenger’s feet would be, if I had one. I keep my attention on the grey track in front of me, following the path that a thousand thousand have travelled before me, looking for the orange glow of the next beacon, the next waypoint. A notch on a measuring stick in a space without measure. Another Coke, half-empty, sits beside a bag of chips (plain), where my passenger’s ass would be, if I had a passenger. I do not. The world around me is dimming, the light being lost to an oozing curtain of dead insects. I pause as I enter the beacon's glow to violently remove the veil surrounding me. The blackness will be held at bay, for now. I continue riding, beacon to beacon, removing veil after veil, until finally and at last, a glow that cannot be ignored or missed.
The ride is silent. Only the CBC would care about broadcasting here, in the night, on the abandoned prairie. The signs of travel are strewn about me - one empty Coke bottle, an empty bag of beef jerky (hot ‘n’ sweet this time), a handful of French fries from McDonalds. All filling space where my passenger’s feet would be, if I had one. I keep my attention on the grey track in front of me, following the path that a thousand thousand have travelled before me, looking for the orange glow of the next beacon, the next waypoint. A notch on a measuring stick in a space without measure. Another Coke, half-empty, sits beside a bag of chips (plain), where my passenger’s ass would be, if I had a passenger. I do not. The world around me is dimming, the light being lost to an oozing curtain of dead insects. I pause as I enter the beacon's glow to violently remove the veil surrounding me. The blackness will be held at bay, for now. I continue riding, beacon to beacon, removing veil after veil, until finally and at last, a glow that cannot be ignored or missed.