Billboards across the panhandle told me to find nirvana, win a free furnace, and invest in crypto.
C. and I are trying to determine our best route to Vegas.
Above a shuttered rest area, a billboard announced “Jesus Christ is the Answer! Call Dan’s Windows & Flooring!”
I wonder if the health of a society can be pegged to the nerves of its motorists.
A modern marvel where you can eat fast food on top of eight lanes of freeway traffic.
I still remember the frantic voice of a late-night caller who said, “We can’t get the blood out of our eyes fast enough to see what’s coming next.”
I remember speeding across a blank Oklahoma plain dotted with pump jacks and cattle pens.
Sometimes I dream about tollbooth operators, the half-glimpsed faces with cigarettes on their lips, their left hands forever clutching a quarter and a dime in change.
Time and again, I must learn that I can get ready for dinner and I can get ready for bed and not much else.
