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THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO EITAN MORSE
Look at me now, asshole.
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A FIVE DAY JOURNEY BY BUS
An automated voice rings out from the sky
This is not your outbound bus
as he blows a curl of amphetamine fumesfrom his mouth to yours
a secondhand kiss from Lady Liberty
and a trucker who dug up Billy the Kid's olt .!"
patrolling the lot with a metal detector and crack cocaine
#iesel smoke fills a garage in #es $oines
and the trucker and his girl
giggle like they know a secret you will never know
suckling the muffler as we e%it the station
arguing over whether this is &ndiana or &llinois
hen you're pleasantly accosted by a (alvadorian
whose father was deported
who walks with a limp from the cancer he had as a child
who grew up in Los Angeles and never saw a snowflake until today
stranded for twelve hours in a bli))ard
on the first hot day of summer
at a truck stop in lear Lake, &owa
crying for Alaska
but you tell the truckers you're headed for ashington
because you can't bear to let them think
they haven't gone as far as you
and the driver sleeps in a hotel while his passengers suffer in the miserable cold
desperate for another layer of skin
and the driver dreams of a sunny day
This is not your outbound bus
As the dragon rolls down *+th (treet in $inneapolis
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barrels on both ends
kept alive by the frantic pedaling of si%teen drunken Burning $en
slamming down shots
crying of death
facing inwardpassing ta%icabs
spitting out hipsters
and eating new ones
without a final destination
turning the gears to blackout the drunken monster yowls
and you wonder if it might glide right off the map
and devour the youth from town to town
until not a sober soul is left
This is not your outbound bus
#ancing red neon flickers in the mirrored walls
and in the knoephla soup that ripples under an old man's ittery spoon
Kroll's has the best burger in -argo
and people there don't need to smile to look happy
and you fear it's ignorance
because beautiful things can only e%ist with ugly things behind them
ou can see for a thousand miles across the empty /orth #akota sky
not a tree or beast
and in the absence of everything
a waitress slides a burger across the linoleum counter
and it tastes like the blood of 0od
1e must be the slowest driver alive
2il rigs swing gracefully on the prairie
while an oil man waits
on the bus
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for a summer of dangerous work
and a group of renegades readies to oust the old man driver
whispering brutes with knives in hand
The American #ream has moved to the north and the rebels still plotas a construction man prays for steady work in $inot, /.#.
and the old man turns the radio on and everyone scowls to The (tars and (tripes -orever
e stop between two strip clubs and a (alvation Army
with a cross and a flourish that looks like the ass of hrist
fucked by a backwards dagger
and a homebound soldier cries 3the titty bars43
and readies his wallet
as the crackheads suck on half5burnt smokes
6veryone smokes in Billings
the heathens and hip fucks share their communion
and the army man sucks a stranger's tit on his first day home
This is not your outbound bus
1er purple mountains maesty rise above eastern $ontana
scarred by forest fire and billboards advertising untold attractions
when a bobcat steps out of the forest and everyone wants to know what kind of
music you like
because mountains are boring
and you want them to close their oily mouths and breathe
and the driver tells you this is not beautiful
and he leaves a kid in (pokane for taking too long to piss
and the rebel militia grows stronger
as they toss the kid's skateboard out the window in $oses Lake
where one of the crackheads wields a knife
carried off by seven flailing cops
collapses in their arms and floats away to another station
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where he will wait
and wait
for his bus to come
#estroy me and erect a mountainLet me sleep in blankets of clouds and erupt in a pillar of ash
#estroy me and dig an ocean
Let the body swallow my bones into her watery core
and let me fall from the tip of the needle into 7uget (ound
while the whales cry and the crackheads rot
and the hipsters eat mushrooms and hide in corners mumbling
#estroy me and build a city where the buses burn and the drivers toast
to all the fucks we lost along the way
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TEA
$ar% and 6ngels sit under a dusty cash register at my work. -reud is there too. The three of them are
having a tea party. They set their cups on little doilies. The ommunists are having a rousing chat and
-reud feels left out. 1e's already had more than four cups of tea. 1e is starting to feel manic from thecaffeine. 0reat minds do not drink weak tea. -reud begins to panic. &t isn't long before the itters make
him spill on himself. The tea makes his pages soggy and & have to throw him in the trash. $ar% and
6ngels are silent. & wonder who they belong to.
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WELCOME BACK, MISS AMERICA
1ere she comes into the violent blue abyss
straddling bow5legged over a broken kitchen sink
se% so thick you can taste it in the airelcome back to the house of a thousand men clapping
where the rent is free and the broken bodies dance to your songs
ou are so careless
ou are a terrible thing sleeping on a bed of nails
ou are loved
ou are the si))ling ends of your perfectly maintained hairdo
crumbling
elcome back to the subtle life
where you are not 8ueen but you are hungry
and even here they pile and yearn
kissing each other's feet for a taste of your holy ground
but under your custom made naugahyde boots
the mountains will never remember your name
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FORTY BELOW
&'ve taken a ob guiding tours of a refrigerated room kept at a constant temperature of forty degrees
below )ero. At this temperature, it takes about an hour for frostbite to set in, for a healthy person. &
enter the free)er five to ten times a day, each with a new group of gawking tourists, and the doorclamps behind me for e%actly five minutes. 9ome, e%perience the wonders of the Klondike,: & tell
them as they watch a torrent of hot water free)e in the air and shatter against the wall. hen we e%it, &
direct them to the gift shop, where they can buy hot drinks and cookies, which we sell for three dollars
each. hen & say the word 9cookie,: each of the frail travelers turns their head in ama)ement. 9ou
have cookies in Alaska;:
They are here in part to witness the caveman mentality of Alaska's residents, in 7.T. Barnum fashion.
e are the e%hibit deluded into fantasies of deliverance, nerds costumed in *2f course, this isn't true, but they love it.? 2ne of the men
breathes through a respirator and e%hales clouds. The woman twirls her left foot in clockwise circles as
one of the ladies in the back slumps into a great pile of flesh, limbs twisted around her, setting into a
fro)en rigor mortis. & am only two minutes into the tour. 9#o you see the way her Achilles tendon curls
up her leg;: The woman is unfa)ed and licks her lips in anticipation. 1er lips instantly gla)e with ice.
1er eyes are the color of the air. The man with the respirator tries to rouse his dead wife and crumples
beside her, which causes one more unsuspecting elder to keel. The rest are too cold to notice their fallen
comrades, and the woman who now stands ust inches from the tips of my feet has other things in mind.
91ow do you stay warm in that little uniform;: & try to keep my cool. (he twists and turns and another
oldster dies of stroke. There are two minutes left and & am running out of things to say. (he touches my
arm and & back into the emergency unlock button. /othing happens. (he takes off her shirt and &'m
fairly sure we're the only two left alive. 1er wrinkly skin begins to harden. &n a week, &'ll be in
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/uremberg, but for now, we stand as statues, a costumed character and a naked whore fro)en under a
laser recreation of the northern lights.
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BEASTS OF THE BATTERY BARN
#o you remember when Tommy broke his leg
and all the cousins came out to watch daddy set the bone
how they sat him down on the stumpand he screamed and screamed and they all umped back
when they heard the snap
your redneck dreams will get you nowhere
twisted bitch, scritching down the aisles of Battery Barn
in your aluminum stagecoach
voice of 0od booming unfulfillable promises in the irradiated light
of the A$ band
as you tap a sweet triple A halleluah
into your buckled armrest
cellular glow in your tangled hair
he used to make moonshine in the shed
as you fumble for change in your anti8ue coinpurse
a salesman looks you right in the eye
and tells you not to worry
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EXHAUST
hen you leave the party to sleep
on the longest day of the year
and the midnight sun hangs over the mountainssi%teen glorious monks burn on (tate (treet
clouds of human smoke
circling around brick chimneys
vanish into the sky
crowds of human strangers
whistle and call your name
as the harlots of the @ed 2nion dance and sing
that summer is come
and your name is an adective
you are si% letters placed in order
in a melancholy parade
beneath the first thunderstorm in eight years
and you can't distinguish which are dreams
and which are threats
glittering under smokestack breath
transcendental in the rolling sky
as the teenagers sway
in the ha)e of Brooklyn and Babylon
you tumble into the e%haust
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LITTER
Three days later
a sarcastic bottlecap
reminds you you are a criminal
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UNDONE
e rise from the 6arth piece by piece
with all the knowledge in the universe
forgetting the past to remember the futurewe can see our entire lives from here
we make stars with the beams from the light of our eyes
consume death to breathe out new life
we wonder how we got here
only knowing where we might have been
and in our darkest ha)e we know that innocence awaits us
we are gods when time flows backwards
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TAXIDERMY SHOW
The withered old bat has come to preserve her pelt
stained with cigarette smoke and (ero8uil
and a fully shaved homose%ual with an %5ray spectrometerensures her her skins are free of arsenic
and the rock lady's anti8ue uranium glass plate
shatters under blacklight
into a radioactive igsaw pu))le of shimmering green shards
and you swear by your morbid intentions
you are here
merely because you've e%hausted your options
and every new thing is less e%citing than the last
A blonde you are casually interested in
inspects the deadened feathers of a ptarmigan
fro)en in flight
and you consider how much better your night might have been
if the 6agles lub had a pinball machine
as the rock lady picks her uranium
from the eyesockets of a moose
demarbled in the hall
backing into the bat
who shrieks as one of the shards works its way into her inde% finger
and the woman with the ptarmigans twiddles her 85tip
through cracks no man should see
&t's ama)ing the dead can still bleed
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THE SHOPPING MALL AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD
& think my short form is suffering. $y poetry is getting weirder. & am writing these thoughts on the
back of a very long receipt. (omething & have done before. All is not well.
1e's here again. 6very Thursday, this man stands in our store, answering 8uestions for customers. 1e
operates the tasting bar, handing out morsels of fresh smoked salmon to the gluttonous tourists. & don't
know his name, but he stands about si% foot four and & think he thinks he works here.
& live in a town that hosts more than nine hundred thousand visitors over the course of each summer.
They arrive by cruise ship in the mornings and spend most of the day perusing the ewelry stores. There
are, as far as &'ve counted, at least three maor classes of cruise ship passengers. The first, and most
tolerable, are those who buy salmon for their loved ones, pack it away in suitcases, and disappear onto
the trails. The second are the 8uestion askers. The distrusters. The ones who refuse to believe our lies.
The most unpleasant are those who have come to Alaska to window shop. The ones who stand at the
feet of mountains and fly in little helicopters to the top, clutching onto their twenty thousand dollar
necklaces, worried their e%tra baggage will cause the machines to malfunction. They despise salmon
and buy only the cheapest variety, suffering through every bite. The man at the tasting bar handles these
tourists especially well, and that is why we have not yet asked him to leave.
9an & help you with something;: 1e has asked me this several times. (ometimes & say yes and he
stumbles away muttering, as if frightened. 1e seems to have befriended one of my coworkers. This irks
me.
There is a themed cruise in town today. Themed cruise days are the most entertaining because it is
usually impossible to guess the theme. &t is rarely advertised, and for good reason considering the
themes of previous cruises. e've been told our town hosts a nudist cruise once a year, and so we
remain vigilant, scanning the tourists for 8uirks. The religious cruises are easiest to identify, as are the
gay cruises, if only because the men and women walk two by two. &'ve been told that a few years ago,
(kagway hosted a hristian cruise and a gay cruise on the same day and it made the whole town
uncomfortable. (ince then, the cruise lines have scheduled their voyages more discreetly. &'ve been a bit
da)ed figuring out today's theme. $ost of the people here match the e%pected descriptions.
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The strange man at the tasting bar inserts toothpicks slowly into cubes of meat. & worry when the health
inspector comes that we might be shut down for his careless handling of food. & have yet to bring this
up with the manager. (he always seems so scatterbrained. The man tries to upsell to a person who
clearly knows nothing about fish. &t's a disaster and & take over where he left off.
90overnment and science rarely see eye to eye. The 9Keep @efrigerated: sticker is only there for
regulatory purposes. Almost any of our products will last outside refrigeration for weeks. (ee, this raw
sockeye doesn't have a refrigeration sticker and this fully cooked sockeye does. #on't you find that
odd; America is strange.:
9This isn't America, this is Alaska.: The customer e%its in angered confusion. & wonder if she is
searching for a policeman to arrest me for my lies. & repeat the story to my coworker and she laughs
uncomfortably, eying the man at the tasting bar. & can tell she's starting to wonder why he won't leave,
but & don't bring it up. $y other coworker, the one who seems to be his friend, is harder to talk to,
because she's usually high. & get an idea and immediately start writing it down.
$ore tourists enter and more tourists leave, mostly of the first and second type, but the man behind the
tasting bar seems flustered. 1e hasn't learned to shrug things off like & have. 1e whispers something to
my coworker, his friend, and she laughs hysterically. & wonder if he's figured out the theme of today's
cruise, or if one of the ship crew has leaked it to him. The manager gives him a look and returns to her
business. & restock cans from the room behind the employees only curtain and he approaches me.
9an & ask you something;:
9es.: & an%iously await his words. This is the first time he has spoken to me in confidence. & need to
know how his mind works. 1ow thin the line is between employment and insanity. 1e asks me the
8uestion.
9hy are you here;:
& slowly remove my clothes and head back to the ship.
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PEOPLE ARE FUCKING ANIMALS
7eople are fucking animals
The average human orifice might as well be a vacuum cleaner
7eople are fucking animals
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THE GREAT CARIBOU MIGRATION
A marching band of oblong spheroids wobbles
to the one two one two beat of the tides
with patches on their necksinhaling the 6arth
in geosynchronous rotation
and climb from the sea
onto ancient glacial docks
parading their /aso5American symphony
alongside the caribou
straggling through arcross
and north to 7rudhoe Bay
where biting flies will land on their eyeballs
and the lost children will die beside them
wondering if you are their mother
The spheroids collapse into great green meadows
where the salmon
having spawned
float back to the ocean
in the current of the stream
in pieces
and the timpanic beats of hooves
echo in the mountains
with the shuffle of the mighty American dollar
as they flick through their wallets for ivory
hen they have found their precious Alaska
they prance in the rain
under twirling umbrellas
spiraling into the sky
like lonely planets
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from the T6$(2 helipad
and millions of years from now
someone on a distant world will see their headlamps flickering
through telescopes
at the top of the mountainand wonder
9hat is he doing;:
And they will disappear into paranoia
not knowing their vision will last forever
and reappear in monotone
dredging their hooves through dark brown earth
and onto the boardwalk
repeating lines
flickering out in the lights of the town
sweep gently into the arms of the sea
and endlessly reverberate in the one two one two beat of the tide
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YAKUTANIA
The sorts of foul creatures
that must run through her head at night
the vacant delusions that burnthrough childhood whims
(he is a cataclysm
and you are the waves that crash upon akutania
The animals play in her head
like the fetid glyphs of little reminders
curled into s and s
etched under your eyelids
so you can see them
when you dream
The winter can be so cruel
Like the color of the curtains in her bedroom
washed out in the sun
she is a message in semaphore
and you are a distant man
watching through binoculars
waiting for the words to make sense
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FOR BRAUTIGAN
&'m fairly sure that @ichard Brautigan is dead
and it's comforting
knowing that someday someone might thinkthe same thing about me
There's something nice about not knowing
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ON THE RIDGELINE WITH YOHAI
After sleeping in a tent
on the ridgeline with ohai
both of us smelling like a dog's ass>not to be trite?
this is only the second time
&'ve been to the (weet Tooth af
at si% thirty in the morning
and the waitress already knows me by name
eeks later
when ohai is long gone
on a drinking night at akutania
the waitress calls to me
and & remember reading a poem
at Two Ton Tom's secret spot
with my buddy whose ass & got fired
who had to sleep outside
before he left (kagway
who returned to his parents
as homeless as he was
on those long nights
1e told me &'d be more successful
if & was less avant garde
& don't know if he meant this
about my writing
or about my life
because & know &'m a cra)y bastard
and & know he could see that
but why would & want a friend who couldn't;
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(o & belted out a poem to the girl from the (weet Tooth
though it might have looked like a am session
with my beautiful roommate >in ohai's words?
and & only wish
that it could have been a poemabout sitting on the ridgeline
in Tom's secret spot
and about the (weet Tooth af
or about those fucking bears
we nearly shit our pants for
even though it was too early in the season to worry
& only wish it could have been a poem
about my friend who left too soon
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PEOPLE
& wonder whatever happened to
the Lithuanian man in the black hat
who let me know via te%twhen & had mail at the dredge house
people disappear so fast
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SCHEME
Living ne%t door to the least monitored international airport in the Cnited (tates comforts me on a level
& can't 8uite understand. 6very night & am woken by bush planes making their way into anada and &
know & could walk to the border from here, but their method sounds like a real escape. &'m not sure ifthe passengers understand how valuable their e%perience might be if their lives were less bland. &'m
olted out of my dreams again and & decide it's best to ust stay up, since & have to work in an hour. & can
see the glaciers melting from here. & reali)e that no matter where & am in life, it always feels like & have
to work in an hour. The feeling is stronger when & am working for myself, and on my off days, & have
trouble tolerating the idea of having my head anywhere but in a notebook.
& have this scheme &'ve been working on that & haven't told anyone about, nor have & written down. &'m
afraid & might lose it in the chasm of my own mind. $any people's schemes turn out this way, but in the
hundreds of composition books &'ve filled from top to bottom, nearly every idea &'ve thought up in the
last ten years is neatly filed away in the basement of my family's new house, or in a storage bin
somewhere.
The schemeD #evelop a comple% literary character, or use one from a cartoon & watched as a child.
Become that character. (ee a therapist for several months and allow him to analy)e me. @ecord our
sessions. 7ublish the transcripts in 7layboy or @olling (tone.
hen & started writing this little essay, & thought & could hold back from revealing my scheme. &
thought & could leave you at the end still wondering.
But & can't bear to let a single thought disappear, because if & don't tell you, it's like & never thought it in
the first place. The plane disappears behind the mountains and & am set for another day of work.
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THE KING OF SKAGWAY
2n a dollar bill pinned to the wall
at the Bonan)a Bar and 0rill in (kagway, Alaska
90o ards. CK (ucks.:ne%t to a dollar that says 9ALL 1A&L T16 C66/:
and &'m sitting ne%t to the King of (t. Thomas
who & brought here despite my hesitance
1e has an apartment waiting for him
ne%t to the Eola Eola
as far as & can gather from his conversations
they have new girls there
The radio plays the song from -ootloose
and then an awesome ee)er song
from the time before they sucked
and the bartender pulls the plug on her i7od
& reali)e she's beautiful
as she starts playing some electro gypsy punk masterpiece
& trust that 0eorge will be back
even though & have no reason to trust him
other than that Baeli likes him
The beautiful bartender tells me
what kind of wings to buy
and they are as e%cellent as her taste in music
& spill water on a receipt
that &'m trying to write a poem on
and & reali)e
that everything &'ve written in weeks
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was written on receipts
&'m not sure if & should tell Baeli
that 0eorge bought a drink
with the money she let him havebut she knows
& suddenly reali)e the bartender is gone
and that 0eorge has been gone for a while
with Baeli who & thought would leave him
because (t. Thomas is calling
1e left his bike at my house
and & wonder if &'ll ever see the King of (kagway again
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AGUA VS. THE LAND CANOE
Today, & build the land canoe. The refrigerator will be placed in a resting position on its back, and
wheels will be attached. The machine will by powered by oars and a keg of @obert's beer will be placed
in the free)er. orey and & will paint racing stripes on our land canoes and glide down A.B. $ountain.
2f course, the last time orey and & tried to race, & wound up naked on a bathroom floor crying 9FAgua4
FAgua4: to an audience of seven people. (o perhaps the land canoe can wait to tomorrow.
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WINTER DESERT
And the business owners
who haven't spoken in twenty seven years
will cry at each other's funeralswhen the north wind overtakes
the wind from the Taiya
in the final struggle at summer's end
the roller skating hippies
will tumbleweed across the hilkoot
sprout like winter cactus buried in the snow
when the stampeders struggle to stamp out new paths
along the 0olden (taircase
and we will wither and e%tol our party lives
to those who will listen
or separate into fragments of broken Alaska
&n the rest of the world
we will pick up our burnt out pieces
migrate to college campuses and nightmare hotels
new music will spoil our desperate ears
lost in America
And the bartenders billowing in campfire glasses
will lock themselves in tiny rooms of ancient houses
until the sun comes up in $ay
and in the tiny rooms they'll make a thousand tiny baskets
and moccasins to sell and protect them
from the tundra snakes that bite their feet
And the broken machetes strapped to our backs
will remind us of the bush pilots
who cling to their teetering parachutes
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and fly like superman in the storm
that approaches every evening
and ends its battle at the mountaintops
spraying the town with its wintry cru%
and turning its grief to the seaas the pilots tumble into another machine
the Alaska we know will only e%ist in our minds
and our friends will know it only by our stories
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SHOES
6veryone in (kagway has holes in their shoes. & can't speak for the rest of Alaska, but it has become so
mainstream here that & have to wonder whether some of the phonier members of the community have
purposely drilled holes in their footwear, ust to fit in. Those of us who have conformed to this trend,whether by choice or by accident, can be easily distinguished from those of us who haven't. e walk
on our heels with our eyes fi%ed to our feet, especially on rainy days, and we shout in pain when we hit
a particularly pointy rock. &t's like we're all in training for the day we're forced to walk on hot coals.
The fakers are especially obvious. Their pained shouts don't have the same passion.
& am a faker.
& don't have any holes in my shoes at all.
&t's not that & don't want to fit in. And & don't believe & have any more common sense than the other
residents of (kagway. &t's ust that & think & read somewhere >probably mistakenly? that the human foot
contains some number of poorly developed taste buds, and & would rather taste my own socks than
whatever rank things these people are stepping in. & am not willing to take that risk.
& do a better ob than most of the fakers. & have timed out my uncomfortable shouts logarithmically so
each one seems unpredictable, and & watch my steps as carefully as the rest. /obody seems to suspect
anything.
&'m walking with Baeli to the li8uor store, something we do together often. &t is raining, as it does most
days. (he has real holes in her shoes, so she rarely makes eye contact. This is okay because & have a
ruse to keep up. e have to walk three e%tra blocks to avoid the areas where puddles usually form. 2ur
conversation is broken up by the pools that form around our feet.
9& can't wait to get out of here.: A 8uick walt) step.
9That's all you ever talk about. ou're coming out to party tonight.:
9/o &'m not. #o you think $iranda got the boot because your mom heard us talking about her;:
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90ot the boot; hat are you; uit being so American.:
92h. (orry.: hat can & say; &'m still fi%ated on my shoes. e separate for a second to walk around a
large puddle.
9But no. & think it was (cott's decision.:
9$akes sense.:
9ou're coming out tonight though, don't change the subect. ou can't say no. & want to see you go
wild again like dance night.:
9/ot gonna happen.: & look up from my shoes and there's a gri))ly bear staring at us from across the
street. 9Ah4:
9hat's wrong; 0ot your feet wet;:
9/o, no, it's fine. (tepped on a rock.: & continue to walk on my heels. & can't break character.
9$ine are soaked, but &'m not 8uite ready to look away.:
9an & tell you something;:
9eah, what is it;:
The gri))ly bear charges. The truth is, my feet really are wet. &'m not sure how it happened, but & think &
finally have those holes.
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APPEL DU VIDE
(itting at the top of a cliff
you teach the word 9saudade:
to your closest friendfor a thousand miles
on the first dark night in months
and the stars look like paint splotches on a black canvas
and the ground is a thousand feet away
and he tells you you need to learn
to appreciate silence
so you contemplate your summer's gradual fade into monotony
and how you feel more isolated the freer you become
and you can see the lights of the nearest town
and you wonder
how much better these stars must be
ust a few miles north
but if you keep heading north at the pace you're going
it won't be long
before the only place you have left to go
is into those stars
so you hesitate to break the silence
he told you to love
before finally telling him something
you think is profound
but he shrugs it off
like he already heard it from someone else
and you finally reali)e
he's thinking about the same things as you
and you want to help him
but he sees the same stars as you
calling you both
and maybe everyone
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into the void
where time is a delusion
and everything stops
so you can remember the things you are going to love
looking down from the vacuum at the top of the cliffand knowing you don't love them yet
ou try to solve the problem
by telling him that these stars
are the best you've ever seen
and from where you are
it seems they're the closest they've ever been
and you reali)e he was right
you need to learn to appreciate silence
because without our words
we are ust a feeling
and feelings hurt worse
when you acknowledge their names
so in silence, you watch the abyss
the both of you wishing you weren't alone
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THINGS I'VE OPENED BEER BOTTLES WITH IN THE LAST MONTH
A bottle opener
A rock
A park benchA dime
A knife
A knife
A knife
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WHERE HAVE YOU GONE HANNAH MONTANA
(he totes her hula hoop
like a disciple
of some (t. $ark's headshopon the other side of the world
flipping a (kittle into her open mouth
offering you one
twirling through the air
you catch it like a performing seal
and ask her to see the package
so you can read the ingredients
and reassure yourself
that this is not food
before you disappear to read The 2ld $an and the (ea
but you know that 1emingway had it worse
so you stay for a few hours
she gives you the strangest look
ou can see the candy in her blood
emanating through her spinning hoop
as you sit
silent on the broken park bench
1er body is made of chemicals
and so is yours
she tries so hard
scoots ne%t to you
lights a oint
ou came to say goodbye
to a man you never met
and she plays a $iley yrus video
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sarcastically
but you can tell she likes it
and you take a hit
The washed out colors still twirl in the night airbacked by the cheering of strangers
when she returns with gasoline and matches
you are forty pages deep
and you never see the grand finale
until months later
when she comes to say goodbye
to a man she never met
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RIVER
The little canal is still noticeable
even at high tide
and & wonder how many salmon we killedby digging that one foot trench
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THE GHOST OF SOAPY SMITH
&n the early part of autumn, the birch and alder stand out from the spruce on the mountainsides. 0loom
hangs over the valley and all the people in town crook their heads in annoyance. & reali)ed ust last
night that & live ne%t door to (arah 7alin's childhood home and & wonder, floating down a waterfall thatflows like syrup from a broken kitchen faucet, whether the hardware store sells spraypaint, when &'m
awoken by the ghost of (oapy (mith. & can only see his black shoes and pants but the voice is right. 1e
tells me he's a therapist and that he wants to help and & didn't know that about (oapy (mith. & ask him
about it and he says it's never too late to find a new profession. & tell him &'m a coward and he says he
knows because of something my great great grandfather did to a friend of his and & tell him it's about
time to forget the past because you've got a long life ahead of you. 1e says this advice is coming from a
8uestionable source and & concede. ou can't give advice that you wouldn't take yourself he says and &
think he's right. A trip to the hardware store yields no sign of spraypaint and maybe somebody lives in
(arah 7alin's house, so & forgo the whole plan and meditate in the Alder lump near The (pout when
some ackass tries to start a bonfire. & look at him like he's fuckin nuts and he blinks a couple times. &
think about where &'d be if & had found that paint and this guy says do you want a marshmallow on a
stick. & say yes and it covers up part of my field of vision when &'m bringing it to my mouth and &
recogni)e (oapy's shoes. All this town has got is past he says and even the present is over a hundred
years old. & tell him but in the real world things don't stay the same. 1e says that Alaska is the real
world and the present and the past and the future are the same stories and everyone's related and that
&'m the same coward that came before me and & eat my marshmallow. & tell him to think about the
future and he tells me you can't give advice you wouldn't take yourself and he gives me another
marshmallow and & think about digestion.
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UNEXPECTED SUE
& am writing this because & want to look busy. & don't want the customer in my store to notice me
because & know her from my old ob. (he has worn the same outfit every day for the last several
months and & think she e%pects people not to notice.
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THIS IS A MAP
hen you haven't had an ama)ing night in weeks
throw your gasoline snifter from the top
and wait a hundred seconds for the shatterif it comes too late you've climbed too high
and you may not make it back down to sea level
but if it comes too soon
follow the trails of animal blood
through the melting glacial ice
and if you don't remember where you are
remember to take a left past the Alder lump
and if you forget where you are again
take a right to tempt fate
ontinue along the right path until you see the tarp
and from there
you're only a few steps away from The (pout
ou could stay there all year long
and never see another human
e%cept for the man who owns the tarp
and & suspect he's long gone
& wrote him a letter once
and tucked it underneath his belongings
Like most of the letters &'ve written in my life
it was never meant to be read
but if you find The (pout
and the man is there
give him my regards
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NONSMOKER'S MANIFESTO
Thus began a baffling and crippling danse macabre
the evangelists of Broadway pitching alcohol as a cure for drunkenness
during which & made some strange decisionsthat & cannot seem to rationali)e
The image of a then ac8uaintance
who reminded me of someone & once knew
curled up with a cigarette
twisted her fingers one by one in silent ventrilo8uy
And she wakes up with feathers in her bedsheets
and paints her face like a gargoyle
and paints the outlines of her light blue sedan
in pastel red beside the ore docks
where the arctic terns
would one by one slam into her windshield
with a horrifying thud
hen & woke up blindfolded in the garden of 6den
and blacked out the sky
& climbed a mountain on the night & 8uit my ob
and on drag night & hid silently
in the glow of satellites
learning to appreciate the silence
of infinite noise
and all & hear are distant ships
and the calls of the migratory terns
as they screech into the glass
And she used to be such a firestarter
before the tides had their way
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and once not long ago & was a figurehead
shining in the headlamps of the downtrodden
and once not long ago & was a companion
and a martyr
and the halls of ournalism marked me offas best forgotten
and & disappeared around the world
in a madcap stutter
& wagered she couldn't smoke ust one
under the alpine glow
And the shutter speed counts off to si%ty
reducing us to a radiant flash in the headlights
reducing the ravens to arctic terns
overe%posed under the northern lights
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SHE'S ONLY EVER BEEN TO CHINA AND SKAGWAY
& cooked some fried rice and & was eating it in front of the little hinese girl who's staying in my
apartment. (he looked at me in ama)ement and asked 9Are you American;: and & said 9up.: Then she
said 9America is ama)ing.: & don't think she knew we eat hinese food here.
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SUN GOD
Teach them 6nglish and tell them to worship a sun god
the lord come up you rise the lord come down you fall
teach them to count the days in si%es and sevensand the years in tens
teach them to pray for yesterday and fear tomorrow
for they are the children of a ealous sun
teach them of souls and seconds
Little $an, teach the signs of the stars
teach them of monarchs and the permanence of death
that the past is lost
teach them 6nglish and tell them of a god they can never see
Bow to the light of time, Little $an, it will burn out your eyes
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JOS MUNROY
&f you ever meet someone named Eos
or someone named $unroy
ask him if he's Eos $unroybecause if he is
you've ust met
the only good man
left in (kagway
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I HAVE THE WEIRDEST KIND OF HANGOVER
& have the weirdest kind of hangover
like &'ve woken up on a bus
and & missed my stopand &'m in some strange new town
drifting further from my destination
& have the weirdest kind of hangover
like the summer was a dream
and the people &'ve met
are figments of some (tranger orld
& have the weirdest kind of hangover
like &'m stuck in hell
but &'ve been here a while
so &'m getting used to it
& have the weirdest kind of hangover
like &'ve woken up on a bus
and & missed my stop
and &'m in some strange new town
drifting further from my destination
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BATHROOM EMERGENCY
&t's one of those bathroom emergencies
they tell you about in kindergarten
where you are drinking and pissing at the same timefor the rest of your life
forever
and they make your bathroom into a museum
where you are the centerpiece
fro)en in time
a living fountain
that eventually sells for a million dollars at auction
and is permanently installed
in an old man's closet
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THE ONLY CLIFF FACE IN AMERICA THAT DOUBLES AS A BILLBOARD
Towering over (kagway
the only cliff face in America
that doubles as a billboard91ere's -luffy after we butchered him
wouldn't you love to own a piece of Alaska;:
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REMIND ME TO WRITE A POEM
@emind me to write a poem
about a clown singing Love (hack
with a beautiful redhead on karaoke nightwho flipped her friend the bird
but made it look like it was pointed at me
@emind me to write a poem
with the words of strangers
overheard in the bar that night
@emind me to write a poem
about how & got there
and how things have changed
since the first karaoke night in $ay
and about how & never paid Eeff back
for the drinks he bought me
that very first night
@emind me to write a poem
where Eeff gets his money back
someday in the future
because even broken promises
can be kept in fiction
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THE GHOST OF SOAPY'S RETURN
9& understand that you're trying to write a book, but you need to put yourself out there more.:
9(ee, & think the problem is deeper. riting a poem or a story re8uires the living of a certain amount oflife, and & feel like &'ve already e%hausted my Alaskan e%perience into a complete work. But despite
that, & feel like there's too much left unsaid. Like there's this whole untouched emotional aspect that &
have yet to e%plore, and &'m not sure how to access it without altering the e%perience in and of itself.:
9#o you want to access it;:
9& don't know, maybe. But & have bigger problems too. -or the last several months, &'ve been faced with
this dearth of intellectual stimulation. At first & thought & could live without access to media. &'ve read
eight books this summer and & still feel... well, on top of that, &'ve had to deal with this crippling case of
la)iness, which & know is the cause of my lack of stimulation, but it's itself caused bythat lack of
stimulation. &t's not that & haven't had good conversations here, or been to good parties. &'m actually
fairly content with the way &'ve spent these last five months. & think it's the mountains. alking under
such glory for so long has caused a dulling effect. & barely notice them anymore.:
9Are you sure it isn't the company you keep;:
9&t all adds up. The si)e of the town has a lot to do with it. $y social circle is very limited. $ost of the
people here are assholes and the ones who aren't have a habit of leaving, or being unavailable or
detached. ith only a week left, & feel like the friendships &'ve made here are written on melting
glaciers. &t felt like that at the beginning, too. That maybe another cause of my lack of stimulation
might be the impermanence of the whole thing. & am as detached as the rest of them. $aybe they think
that &'m an asshole too. $aybe we all think the people here are assholes because we're afraid. That if
we develop relationships here, they'll be torn apart. & think every one of us has gotten more aloof as the
season has progressed. As we've watched our friends leave one by one.
9#o you regret not reaching out;:
9es, but it's a necessary purgatory. e all have places to be and things to do and we all know this is
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temporary. But so is life.:
9& still think you're a coward.:
The waves wash upon the shore like warm caramel.
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WILDLIFE
A little girl says
9where's dad;:
and another little girl says9maybe he got eat eaten by a chupacabra:
clearly
they've never been to Alaska before
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I AM TRAPPED UNDER A GAZEBO IN THE POURING RAIN IN BEAR COUNTRY
& am trapped under a ga)ebo in the pouring rain in bear country
like that night at oney &sland
when & wrote the beginning of a storythat never got an end
#roplets pour in two uncertain streams
from a bent tin roof
where a vagrant plays broken up blues
on a sa%ophone
The paper bag clinging to the skin
of a forty ounce bottle of malt li8uor
is the color of the si% wooden beams
holding up the driest prison by the sea
The vagrant tosses a hissing cigarette
from the roof
to the cracking granite pavement
& don't know how he kept it lit
but the pause between melancholy verses
becomes a crescendo
& am trapped under a ga)ebo in the pouring rain in bear country
sweeping broken off pieces of graphite
from the table
where & once carved someone else's name
with a blunt tipped pocket knife
a name &'ve carved in more tables
than & would care to admit
The ferris wheels and fishing boats rumble
and the sa%ophone gurgles in the rain
the paper bag
from the forty ounce bottle of malt li8uor
blows in the wind
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and impresses on an iron tree like a @orschach test
and & see my reflection
in a growing body of water
& am trapped under a ga)ebo in the pouring rain in bear countrywhere a broken old man withers as he walks
and the Gagrant's Blues sounds like a drowning man
The sa%ophone falls from the sky like brass hail
it makes the strangest sound when it hits the rocks
like one last cry for breath
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A LETTER TO LARRY GINTZ
#ear Larry,
& ust carved 9LA@@ 0&/TH: onto a park bench, which &'ll have you know & have a habit of doing.1opefully the park benches all over America that say 9LA@@ 0&/TH: on them will never point back
to you.
ours sincerely,
.A. $ullins
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MASTER LOCK
There is a fishing weight at the bottom of Lower #ewey Lake
that used to be a $aster Lock
with the same combinationthat opened my old garage door in $issouri
There is a $aster Lock at the bottom of Lower #ewey Lake
that protected my luggage
when & backpacked in 6urope
five years ago
There is a trout at the bottom of Lower #ewey Lake
who & would have eaten
had the $aster Lock not snapped my line
There is a person at the bottom of Lower #ewey Lake
who used to be a trout
and now he knows the combination
to my old garage door in $issouri
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LAST DAY
#rinking their last Alaskan beer
on a back porch
remembering the nights in $aywhen the world was big and new
and the realities of small town life
were a ha)y fantasy
curled into a hopeful future
and dreams of Alaska still lingered
before they began to dream
6very porchlight in (kagway is lit
for the brothers and sisters
we've lost to the winter
in vigil like the summer is a kidnapped man
and autumn is a 1itchcock score
of migrating crows
waiting for the porchlights to dim
between -ace $ountain and the hilkats
where every missing (kagway child
watches Alaska float away
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PLEONASM ON THE M/V MALASPINA
The Alaska $arine 1ighway Gessel $IG $alaspina is a redundant acronym. (till, upon boarding the
vessel, the redundancy feels appropriate in connection to my Alaskan life, which has been permanently
stained by pleonasm. $y workplace serves, or served, primarily tourists, who are, in their essence,replications of one another, facsimiles who have the same bodies and the same minds as those who
e%ited the shop immediately prior. Tourists who arrive on different days, though having no opportunity
to meet for the purposes of conspiracy, ask the same 8uestions as their unknowing counterparts, and
make the same okes. &n fact, the very construction of a terrible oke appears now to be determinant
upon some grammatical core that e%ists at the center of every replicant mind. 3& used to smoke a lot of
salmon in college, but it's hard to find rolling papers that large3 and its variants have been repeated at
least two hundred times over the course of the summer and everyone and their mother laughs like it's
the most original thing they've ever heard, despite their standing less than five feet from a @ay Troll
postcard that reads 3&f you must smoke, smoke salmon.3 The situation has convinced me that the only
truly original oke is one so veiled in obscurity that only its originator finds it funny, and that the only
original person is one whose thoughts are so unconstrained by the prescriptivist rules of grammar that
he or she is only ever understood in the most generic sense of the word, as a collection of molecules
vaguely resembling a person. 6ach of us are imprisoned by the rules of our languages, and as & have
learned through e%tensive interaction with foreigners, all of our languages are the same.
The replicants come to (kagway on cruise ships, where they're given opportunities to spend their
money in e%otic ways. The economy of (kagway in the summer relies primarily on 36%cursions,3
which offer tourists once in a lifetime e%periences, to be repeated for the lifetimes of all the cruise ship
tourists who visit Alaska, many of whom visit more than once. (econdary to the 6%cursions for
(kagway's economy come the ewelry stores, which are owned by the cruise lines, and which have
forced most of the town's mom 'n' pop stores out of business, as the C( /ational 7ark (ervice took
control of the town in the J+s, raising folks' rent to accommodate the cruise lines. 2n the ships
themselves, passengers enoy such lavish e%periences as the ubi8uitous all5you5can5eat buffet and the
screenings of bigtime 1ollywood movies. They watch whales from the portside >which can also be
done at (kagway's own akutania 7oint?, and they leave their children with corporate babysitters so
they don't have to e%perience the #angers of the Alaskan ild.
7eople who find the Alaskan cruise ship e%perience interesting happen to fall into a very specific
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demographic. $ost of them belong to the upper class of a developed first world country and most of
them have saved money their entire lives to be pampered on boats. &t is the type of person who gets off
on being able to say they've visited Alaska, the most remote place they can think of. The tourists are
here and gone so 8uickly, they leave with an image of Alaska as a place that has a lot of mountains and
gift shops, and they're happy with that. The e%perience of happiness seems to be common to all of theme%cept for one woman & met at the beginning of the season whose husband won the tickets in a
sweepstakes. & wish & had gotten to know her better.
Alaska is not a miserable place because of the unusual daylight hours. &t is not a miserable place
because its disillusioned residents only live here a summer at a time. &t is not a miserable place because
it has the highest suicide rate of any American state. Alaska is not a miserable place. 7eople enter with
a smile and leave with a smile. The folks who stay do so only for the daily grind, and the tourists leave
as happily as the rest. 6very. (ingle. 2ne of them.
(kagway's summertime residents are as redundant as the tourists. They can be reasonably broken down
into four groupsD the hippies, the ewelers, the hikers and the s8uares, who interact with each other only
superficially. The full time residents of (kagway belong to none of these groups and can only be
distinguished by career. The summertimers are mostly looking for adventure, though few of them find
it. This is an effect both of their long work hours and of their poor planning skills. They, like the
tourists, are seeking out a once in a lifetime e%perience, and, much the same, many of them come back.
They are my peer group and they all hate tourists as much as & do.
Aboard the Alaska $arine 1ighway Gessel $IG $alaspina, & have my first opportunity to reflect in
months. &'ve spent my entire summer working and hiking, and sometimes working while hiking. & am
now too small for any of the clothes & brought on this ourney, and like my compatriates in town, many
of whom are on this same vessel, & am too stubborn to purchase a belt. &t is especially hard to pull up a
pair of pants while toting luggage. This does not stop me, although when & set down my bags, & find my
right arm unusably weak.
The $alaspina is a ferry on the much used Alaska $arine 1ighway (ystem. This time of year, it travels
up and down the &nside 7assage from (kagway to Bellingham, ashington. &t is the preferred method
of travel for summertime residents leaving (kagway. The boat itself is more accommodating than & had
e%pected. &t's e8uipped with a full bar and various lounges for the rela%ation of weary travelers.
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9o, asshole4: (omeone & know vaguely from town calls out to me. 1e does not know me well enough
to call me 'asshole.'
91ey man, how's it going;:
9/ot too shabby my friend. 0lad to finally get out of this dump.:
9& know it. Back to the real world. &'ve been working on this book for months, think & might finally
have a chance to finish it. (o glad to be away from the tourists.:
9(weet, what book is it;:
9/ah, & mean &'m writing a book.: 1e looks at me like &'ve lost my mind.
9ool, cool. heck out this postcard & ust bought for my girl back home.: 1e shows me that same
damn @ay Troll postcard that all the tourists laugh at. 9Told her to 8uit smoking a million times and this
is ust funny as shit. (moke salmon.:
The food on the ferry is more e%pensive than it should be, as are most things when sold to captive
audiences. & brought some canned goods in my bag, but &'m saving them for the bus ride home. &
haven't yet found someone here & can hold a conversation with for more than a few minutes, but & only
found a few in (kagway, so it's nothing new. &'ve got instant coffee and an armful of notebooks to keep
me company.
The ferry stops in Ketchikan for a few hours and & have time to e%plore. The first striking thing about
Ketchikan is that it's almost e%actly the same as (kagway. The houses are stilted and the scenery is
different, but that same post5spawn smell of dead fish hangs in the air and the people are almost
identical despite the tour season ending. The whales are active here today, so & head back to the boat
and watch them for a while from the port side of the anchored ferry, as many of the passengers do. &t's
nothing & haven't seen before, but it's still beautiful. & get back off the boat to scope the competition, to
compare the gift shops of Ketchikan to those of (kagway. There are ust as many ewelry stores, but
their products seem nicer, maybe because they're unfamiliar. & find a smoked salmon shop and & can
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hear the ignorant replicants asking the same inane 8uestions they asked me ust a few days ago. & even
recogni)e a tourist or two and & bet they're shocked to see me in Ketchikan.
The ferry reboards and night sets in, which it seems to have been doing earlier each day. & drink an
instant coffee and watch the new (tar Trek movie in the movie lounge, which & appreciate because &haven't had much e%posure to pop culture this summer. hen the movie ends, & refill my coffee and
head out onto the deck to starga)e. & notice a figure in the water slowly approaching the ferry. Cpon
closer inspection, it turns out to be a lifeboar, piloted by a strange little man. There's nobody else on the
deck to witness this, so & watch him closely. &t's hard to make out what he's doing, but he's making a lot
of noise and & can see his outline reaching into the water, splashing around the edge of the boat like
fireworks. The splashing stops and he ties up the life boat a way's down the edge of the ship. 1e climbs
awkwardly up a little ladder onto the deck. & watch from behind a corner, trying to to give away my
position, and & can see the figure trying to spark a lighter in the wind. 1e lights the flame. 7anicked, &
run toward him and & don't know what & was e%pecting, but & swear to 0od he was smoking a salmon
and it was hilarious and profound and all the things & never wanted it to be.
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OVERHEARD ON THE P.A.
The movie is called 2blivion
it is a Tom ruise movie
once again, it's oblivion in five minutes
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LOOKING FOR THE LITTLE PRINCE
There is not a building for three hundred miles
and everything is black e%cept for the stars
reflecting on the clear water below me& cannot see the 6arth from here
and a passing stranger asks
Aren't you cold;
& tell him & am an astronaut
& do this for a living
&t is very cold in space
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ANOTHER JOURNEY
And once you've destroyed me
wait and wait and wait
in Bellinghamfor the bus to bring you home
where the bartender smokes legal weed
outside your makeshift shelter
and throws you onto rainy streets
The infinite flow of coffee and alcohol
from the dirtiest faucets in -airhaven
where a kind woman says that
(atan is the president
and keeps the taps open
so you don't have to brave the night
and you can still taste the watery drink
two days later
when a pretty single mother
puts her two small girls
on the bus in (eattle
waving goodbye like the first day of school
and it tumbles down the freeway
through old familiar unctions
ou're afraid to draw attention
but the people this time are different
and you start to think that maybe
after everyone you've seen
and everyone you've been
this is your outbound bus
and the thing you've been waiting for
is not so intangible
ou are so thick with the soil of Alaskan summer
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your own reflection is alien in the bus window
By 6llensburg most of them are reading books
and you wonder if this is a new fad
and what other wonderful things you've missed
&n $oses Lake you see a crow
slam into a telephone pole in the wind
and the driver of another bus wanders the lot
the same man who left the kid
si% months ago in (pokane
he looks you in the eye
and for a second you think he sees that kid
gliding down the interstate
on little plastic wheels
black feathers dancing in the wind
The &nvisible /eon American (ymphony
that rings from truck stop to truck stop
in the wandering mind
plays on
lilting in the potholes and broken pavement
as the tires screech synthetic independence
and the small town choir sings along
in bloody highway media
as the bus pushes forward
$ontana seems so small
when everything is black
the sun comes up in Billings
a 7ac $an ghost town at A$
and you whir into the station
where you say goodbye
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to a friendly man with rotting teeth
empty wallet vagabond
who kept you company on the road
ou sleep again to asper, yoming
and you didn't know there really wereantelope on the range
gra)ing in their little Africa
A camoflaged man in a bush
feigns safari with mos8uito net accuracy
while his brother fishes for trout
in the indy @iver anyon
and the family of the bus
are silent and motionless
like they are trying to remember
the bush plane blues
ou can not be the only one
poisoned by the mad chasms of vagrancy
on this bus for the ne%t
without a terminal in sight
ou can not be the only one
passing through
searching for a clean motel
ou can not be the only one
still lingering
in the dreams of Alaska
where the mountains protect you
from the outside world
and the road is an alien fantasy
ou can not be the only one broken by promises
of pending adventure
The bus pulls into a garage in #enver
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and you reali)e this will be your final transfer
and you hope as the driver spits on the greasy floor
that one day the road might remind you of home
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