Fresh Ash, Roadkill and Swinging Dicks

Zaharia Bogdan
Jul 27, 2017 · 3 min read

A narrow, grey road with yellow interrupted lines running in the middle.

For now, everything is fine for Wyatt. He just got a job. How about that.

Wyatt got a job as an accountant for a firm he can’t remember he applied for

He won’t go to his job. I mean, what’s the point?

He was acknowledged as a hard working, down to earth, tight knit individual.

Why would he want to spoil such a picture? Wyatt laughs. He just thought of that.

His laugh dies down to a smile. He is content. For now

The road is still grey and narrow but Wyatt sees it ending just along the horizon

Caressing the Americana

The sun’s there and that’s where our absent accountant will be

He grabs the clutch and wakes up his Ford 88

The car has seen better days out the factory’s gates

but not roads as slick as this one

Smells of fresh ash and roadkill

Wyatt loves his Ford as much as he loves not showing to his first days of work

He thinks that as long as people see him for what he appears to be,

then that is his true self

Wyatt has been so far described as: optimistic, caring, mentioned hard-working but he’s been called that at least 2 times so,

flexible, passionate, attentive, a team player and adaptive

Adaptive. Adaptive. Wyatt has this word stuck in his head. He is adaptive

He adapts to whoever’s expectations. He knows what they want and it’s easily enough provided for them

A smile, a handshake, sometimes a flirty wink

Yeah, Wyatt just remembered about Susan from Cairo, Illinois.

Those lips could have grown on trees

Anywho, the road’s almost changing to a blackish hue.

Must be Missouri

That’s where the horizon is, and where another will soon come up

But Wyatt wants to stick around Missouri now

The road is just as slick

Also, he has an interview in 2 days

The man from everywhere inbetween

Wyatt spits over his cracked window

Now entering Missouri

The land of whatever you make of it

That’s not Missouri’s slogan but Wyatt’s

That’s America after all. Every American knows it,

Wyatt just happens to know it a little better

But Wyatt is getting ahead of himself.

He stops his Ford in the middle of the road. No cars in sight,

nobody wants to go to Missouri on a Tuesday evening

Wyatt yawns and licks his phantom molar

Had it punched out by a Mexican in San Francisco

Over another Susan.

He was going through a phase but it’s an instant chuckle every time he yawns

Making fatigue addictive since 88’, Wyatt grins

He gets out and kicks gravel into gravel

and looks on yonder to the road he just came on

Blacker than coal in a freshly christened mine

Now’s the time to piss

Unzip and stare into the void.

Piss away your past, absent accountant

Your calling is fresh starts. Anywhere, everywhere

The roads have seen their fair share of people looking for a fresh start

yet Wyatt can feel the gaze of those that looked behind

Just as he has

Just as he always looks every time he stops after entering a new state

Missouri in this case, may prove to be the one

But it’s a Tuesday, and there’s plenty of days to fuck up. Wyatt knows this,

the thought plays again and again in his head like a dying cricket

He won’t last much in this world by thinking about the howls

And the hum drums and the past

Wyatt will try to lick his phantom molar to remember about the time he got his shit kicked in but it won’t stick,

Susan’s gone, that one and his

He just thought about it now

Wyatt groans,

he finished pissing a while ago but the past does not care about swinging dicks in the Missouri night air

The smell of roadkill and ash implied a sense of unbecoming even for the world weary

He gets in his Ford 88,

He shows his teeth.

He shows his teeth when something’s not right.