Just a quickie 'fore I jump on the treadmill:
Today, coming back to CT over the Throg's Neck, a thunderstorm crossing over the Bronx, nothing in front of me but gray haze, the bridge's landing, tollbooths, the blastscape of the fifth borough lost in amorphous fog, my wagon and a thousand angry semis plunging forward into a swirl of the nothing at the bottom of the northward arc, speeding up, grinning, blowing airhorns and riding hard, thinking oblivion and hoping for fantasy.
Goddamn.
Today, coming back to CT over the Throg's Neck, a thunderstorm crossing over the Bronx, nothing in front of me but gray haze, the bridge's landing, tollbooths, the blastscape of the fifth borough lost in amorphous fog, my wagon and a thousand angry semis plunging forward into a swirl of the nothing at the bottom of the northward arc, speeding up, grinning, blowing airhorns and riding hard, thinking oblivion and hoping for fantasy.
Goddamn.
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