QUARTER-MASH POTION
I went past an old tavern today; a girl
was out front lighting a cigarette. Still
happens like that, yeah. This was an
old place, along the road, though as
forgotten too, and with some ancient
lumberyard nearby. I thrilled, myself,
to see it all. White-crested river water
ran alongside the wall.
-
Funny how old rocks pile up. Glacial
and geologic, all those forces and
heaves of old. And then the farmers'
stone fences - I sense them each, the
idle days of some 120 years ago when a
farm was a lonely place. No equipment
to be powered; no TV to debase. What
to do on those long, dreary days?
-
The girl turned and waved. The river ran
on. I smiled, passing, thinking what the
young version of me might have thought.
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