En Route No. 1(part two)

Suddenly nature communicated(and more about this later--later!), sweeping through the parlor car after all the bluedawn yawns were worked out completely and everything -one was coming to life. I was dreaming about fucking that hillside--had forgotten how soft they were in California, forgotten their folds like those on the behinds of big beautiful women!, like those shaping their breasts, like those creasing the tight skin covering their ribcages; had forgotten the subtle, palatable changes depending on the time of day and weather.

And then the trees were talking, one with that slouched over, hangdog expression of his, watching his pal, old Pink, vomit into a river all bent over; another, singlehandedly, was an entire funeral procession, with his branches pulled tightly inward, his chest-trunk sunken in almost, and gnarled so much that the already deep greens deepened further until black.

Hovering over water--I looked down in the shimmery backwash, and below the bridge I saw my brother; he had crumpled up his body like a drunk or a scaregull, ass on cement structure protruding above the water's surface, back against some rotting wood posts. On second look, it was not my brother--it was a life preserver.

Gathering closer, the train bent up ahead rounding the curve; humps of earth popped up from nowhere, topped with the down of cute green kittens; and off shore there's tha tankers!; and it was low tide so I, personally, could see 100,000 rubber car-tires in dispose, sticking in the mud.

And, of course, entering slowly then into the cloud, the growing heaviness in atmosphere, the parlor car darkening with the dream, the world of all those ghosts, obscure and well-known.


I'm amazed if anyone had the patience--aside from myself--to read this; and, to be frank, I did not actually have the patience to read it even, I simply jotted it down here and there, and typed it up mindlessly, wishing I had more apple juice. So, soon again,
Benjamin Font

To look forward to: the reading tomorrow at 5pm, Sacred Grounds Cafe, San Francisco; and, "later--later!"