Excerpts from Hitchhiking Beatitudes
We did a last line of crystal meth before my friend dropped me off outside of Escondido. No one will pick you up if they don’t know where you’re going, he said.
I ate granola and apples and slept in wooded interchanges, menaced by mosquitoes, aware of the sky.
Utah was like driving on the moon, she said. New Zealand, where she was from, was like driving on another planet. She had traveled much further than me. I had yet to leave the stratosphere.
The state trooper said what are you doing on my fucking interstate. Thundering trucks, lit like alien Christmas trees, barreled out of the darkness.
In Newfoundland, to appease the rocks and rivers, to placate the trees and lichen, to honor the stars screaming across the sky, I stripped and came on the stomach of the earth.
Copyright © 2017 Michael McInnis
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