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Postcards from Snake Nation
May. 18th, 2011 12:45 amName: Jack. Rank: somewhere between Major Tom and General Labor. Serial Number: 1-800-GET-SOME. Location: Doraville Station. Time: 1800 hours or there about. Situation: Fresh off the job and eager to get the long haul home going.
Having just missed the train I’m doing Platform Patrol solo. It won’t last long, so I savor both the view and the solitude. The month is May but the weather’s strictly early Autumn. October gray sky cast wide over the abandoned Ford Motor plant. The wind whips cold and sharp, driving a fleet of massive low hanging clouds towards the horizon. Low enough that I’m tempted to reach up to see if I can rake my fingers through their passing current. Since, I’m alone I give it a longshot. Nothing.
Story of my life lately.
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Having just missed the train I’m doing Platform Patrol solo. It won’t last long, so I savor both the view and the solitude. The month is May but the weather’s strictly early Autumn. October gray sky cast wide over the abandoned Ford Motor plant. The wind whips cold and sharp, driving a fleet of massive low hanging clouds towards the horizon. Low enough that I’m tempted to reach up to see if I can rake my fingers through their passing current. Since, I’m alone I give it a longshot. Nothing.
Story of my life lately.
