The Trip

thetripWhite hot sun and thick dry heat

driving

mirages ahead of me

appearing and disappearing

endless train on my left

Salt, fish, birds and surreal seashore on my right

stopping

Dead silence punctuated by a few large fly’s buzzing

disturbing my thoughts

walking

just a hint of sulfur in the air

barnacles, fish bones, rocks beneath my feet

crunching then

silence

waves lapping

White beach drawing me in

white pelican swimming

alone

Sharp shadows telling stories

listening

Down the road there is something…

nervous

afraid

creepy feeling

Driving to destination… anyway

I have to see for myself

uneasiness increasing

cars passing me very fast

I stop

and

turn

in

Desolate town before me

quiet

ruins

poverty

No people I can see

but I feel them

hiding from the heat

232 feet below sea level

poisoned water, sand and battered trailers

escape

hide

freedom

This place calls and repels

dry quicksand

I wanted to know

what it was like

I was unprepared

for the reality

I think about it allot

On the train heading home

thinking

I look out the window

on the platform

I see two young men

one is the lookout

the other

is shooting

up

needle in arm

The train continues

I sit and wonder

about what I have seen

on

the trip

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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