texas 2:2
Later that day, I stared across
the border from a low hilltop, down into Mexico itself. In Mexico, I'm told, it is too hot
for ink. A journal melts in the hands of its author. Mexico is written, but it cannot be read.
Go that way, I thought, take your body outside these national confines. But I was chained to the
automobile, and there were no roads from that viewpoint. Also I had Jack and Jill. They were
the closest I'd come to responsibility in my wayward life, and it gave me a shaky, underfed feeling.
So I turned the other directions, East, North, West, into the invisible depths of the American countryside.
Go there. If you can't see it from the road, nature lover, it doesn't exist. Start the car, Jill, I said. I'd been
teaching her to drive.
move on...
other roads...
Back Up...
other roads:
