Westbound I-70, Ohio
August 21, 2020

Sunset

The great American eclipse was three years ago today, a cosmic event that covered the nation coast to coast. I remember how the temperature plummeted as the world was cast in silvery light. And the gorgeous sight of everyone studying the sky with their cardboard glasses. There’s a dark resonance between that moment and these days of masked faces. We could use another extraterrestrial event.

Heading west on Interstate 70, there’s a beautiful sunset and it’ll have to do for tonight.

Gas stations, car dealerships, and strip malls streak past the windshield. Old waltzes bleed through the radio static and voices howl about wearing masks. Late-night callers connect the dots between wildfires, traffic accidents, and factory explosions.

Hard cut to Hank Williams doing “I Saw the Light” back in ’48—worries and fears I claimed for my own, then like the blind man that God gave back his sight, praise the Lord, I saw the —

“Welcome back to Gun Talk, you’re on the air.”
“Any advice on the best place to buy a thousand rounds?”


Low – I’m On Fire

Dead Man’s Town: A Tribute to Born in the USA | Lightning Rod, 2014 | More
Each night in 2020 I'm writing a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I want to etch these days into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changes completely.
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