Monday, October 02, 2006

poem written a while ago

when the television continues to emit
when I have had quite enough coffee
when I have toasted and eaten the bread
when I sit with a soft eye wondering
wandering over the frame of the contemplative room
wandering out the window and back
that seems the whole world within itself
containing worlds, contradictions, dogeared cowtails
framings in their infinite weaving
-chris farrell

part of a story
One day we decided we would set out for Oregon. My dad said, "sure, come on up" so we packed up a few things, and took the bus down to the freeway. We got out a sign and stood there waiting for a ride, while the cars came whizzing by. Finally someone picked us up. He was a guy who looked closet to forty, with a dark mustache, who said that he graduated from Berkeley in "chemical engineering". I got in the front seat, and was in charge of the conversation. He was working in toxic waste disposal, where it was certainly possible to make a lot of money, so we didn't bother to help him with the toll going over the bridge. He turned off somewhere up outside of the immediate East Bay Area, and we got to wait some more. The sun was till high in the sky, and it was warm, with the ozone dustiness of the California heat. A thing guy in a truck stopped for us, with a thing little mustache. He started telling us about all of the hitchhikers that he had to take out, because they tried to attack him.
"He pulled a gun on me, and I turned and grabbed it, and then the door came open and we both fell down out of the truck, rolling over and over, but I was on top in the last and took his gun away from him.
"Yeah, a lot of hitchhikers are dishonest." When I said that, an uneasy silence followed. He was wondering if we were dishonest and there was no way to dispel the tension. When he first stopped for us, he had glared at us and asked if either of us had any weapons or guns, making us feel like Bonnie and Clyde ever though we didn't think of ourselves as anything like that, until when he began to talk of it.
He mentioned that his wife was form the Philippines and talked about how they had met and what she had meant to him and his trip to the Philippines, and what it all had ...He was quite a guy, but wasn't going far so he let us off soon and wished us luck with a friendly smile.

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