Today we packed up a rental car and drove to Ohio to hide from the world this winter. We’re going to hunker down and shelter-in-place through this terrible season that has adopted the grammar of a hurricane. After navigating the manic tangle of New York’s bridges and New Jersey’s turnpikes, it was a straight shot across Pennsylvania on Interstate 80, my least favorite stretch of American highway. Nothing but Amazon delivery trucks and cops in my headlights. We drove through McDonald’s for lunch. We stopped at a rest area where a man stood on the grass, grinning at the moon. Six hundred miles later, we arrived in the Middle West. I love the full-bodied thrum in my nerves after a long drive, as if the mechanical has merged with the neurochemical.


Suss – Road Trip Part 4 (Fork in the Road)

High Line | Northern Spy Records, 2019 | Bandcamp
Each night in 2020, I wrote a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I wanted to etch these days into my memory. Before the world changed completely.
Subscribe
Notify of
guest
0 Comments
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Related Reading
October 8, 2020

Landfall

Lately I’ve been having a dream about a weatherman grinning in front of a map while talking about a hurricane of bullets.
July 16, 2020

The Diver

A short story published as part of the Haunted Passages series in the Heavy Feather Review. It began with the half-remembered image of a woman grinning as she plunged into an industrial canal.
August 8, 2020

Cave

Americans of all kinds gathered together to admire their country’s geological features. All is not lost.
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x