Notes from the Commute

On the hour-long way back home from school:

Signs: “Jobs Jobs Jobs: Twinkle” / “Make Hobson Your Choice” / “Pilot Car Follow Me”

Trusty creosote aroma at the 50 minute mark. How you know you’re close.

As soon CD got unstuck, “plaid perfume on my breath.”

New title for my book hit me when I got to the quarry.

A whole family walking down the shoulder of the road.

Again forgot to stop for new ingots for book weights.

The fake medieval tower poking up above the trees. How you know you’re closer.

Cut finger healing, slowly, but will forever feel weird, a new thing that’s different from before, a definite mark between now and then.

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