Why’d I Quit Trucking to Become a Writer

Trucking days… I’d get there when I’d get there, and they’d better be appreciative that I even came. At least that’s how it looks through the fog of time. Sleeping under the stars, in the desert, not giving a rat’s ass if anyone ever read my poems. I figured they’d find them blowing across the prairies after I got blown off an overpass by a tornado or something. Ah, nostalgic now for the deaths I didn’t die. God damn it, what a stupid dream to pursue, to be a writer. They say you never know until you try, but here I am — I know my homeland like the back of my hand just trying to stay between the mayo and the mustard, for what it’s worth. Not worth a damn thing to write about, so it seems. It’d’a been worth dying in a Freightliner, though. You gotta die somehow. Better not die trying, better to die living, no? Anyhow… here I am. Alive and trying… something… between the mayo and the mustard.

Oh, The Supreme Condescension

There is no transcendentalism in Lima. However, there are plenty of murals with humans who change into trees, or trees that change into humans, or trees shaking hands, or people mingling roots. They’re the kinds of murals that Thoreau left Concord to avoid. It’s all supremely condescending. Nothing adequately depicts the natural horror which is true religion. Ecological etiquette aside, the public beach ended or began where the Indigenous migrants were washing their artisanal dresses in the plastic-filled stream of water running off from the city. The police searched my bag thoroughly for packaged items. They paced the shoreline watching for littering at any point between plastic run-off wash site and plastic run-off wash site. I walked along the authenticated meters of designated beach along the 71% Earth surface of plastinated ocean until I saw something sticking up from the sand. I dug it up with my foot. It was a red and black doll, made with synthetic dyes, wrapped up in synthetic ribbon. “Brujeria,” said the cop strolling by, “you better leave it there”. Like I said, true religion is very hard to find. It’s all so supremely condescending.