Driving Through Colorado
It started to take on a very distinctive feeling. Whether this feeling was pleasurable or not is difficult to ascertain. A foggy head, a sore lower back, the feeling of deep green and trepidation. The jarring, hypnotic, and threatening sound of eighteen large wheels spinning on the asphalt beneath the hum of diesel next to me. The mysteriously creepy dark silhouette of an alien figure wearing a baseball cap casually driving this machine, appearing too sinister for me to even attempt to make eye contact. The possibility of ‘runaways’ and falling rocks. Shanty towns built of trailers and sheet metal. Perhaps a porta- potty? Dilapidated wood covered in mold and black mildew placed in an area so small relative to the size of the mountain. Crammed at the very base and pushed back by the freeway. Luxury mountain resorts with ski lifts bringing you to the top. Pause for a second, “This view is too real.” Power lines stretched houndreds of yards without a pole or a beam to support it. Over canyons, and boulders, over the highways and trees, like we moved into a giant’s neighborhood. I kept waiting for a child’s hand to come down from the clouds, pick us up, and zoom us away like a spaceship while we hear the sound of his lips imitating a revved up sports car.
Me and the homie Aidan en route to Los Angeles (September, 2017)