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The Overpass
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The Overpass |
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Fisherman Junior Member
since 2000-04-14
Posts 46 |
He had never realized how much life existed at ground level. Red ants scurrying here to there in seeming disorganized organization. Click beetles ready to summersault in insectial cacophony if their ‘possum act did not fool the hungry Jay. Rolly polly bugs, surely they have a more intellectual sounding name, slowly making their way across fallen blades of once green buffalo grass. Bugs he had no idea even existed. It was as if the mass of humanity had been transmogrified into minute mutations of alien species and transported to the Kansas plains. Damn, it was hot. The sound of traffic was nearly constant from nearby highway 96. The occasional semi speeding by in an attempt to make Tulsa by nightfall. The high whine of a ninety-two Toyota as a group of juniors from East High were trying to get back to Wichita before their absence from intermediate algebra was noted by old man James. And then the almost harmonic passing of the occasional Amish buggy. Not the clip-clop you read in books, but a rhythmic beat almost like the triple flammadiddles he learned on the snare in eighth-grade band. Even the Amish were in a hurry. Damn, he was thirsty. He thought he heard the drone of voices, but couldn’t be sure as another semi was roaring on its way towards Hutchinson. Must have been a Peterbuilt. He turned his head and looked up the hill. Only in Kansas can you call an overpass a hill. The burning glare of a September Kansas sun was all he could initially see, but then he squinted through the sweat now pouring from his forehead and was finally able to make out two hazy shapes up on top of the overpass. The two figures then started their way down the side of the overpass, stumbling and falling through sunburned weeds right by an empty Coors can thrown from a passing ninety-two Toyota just minutes ago. Damn, an ant had found his leg. His head turned back to the ground to avoid the sun’s glare in his eyes. The red ants were scurrying and the rolly polly bugs were still crawling and climbing blades of buffalo grass as he noticed a pool of sweat, his sweat, darkening the ground beside him. The world of alien transmogrifications was swarming towards the strangely dark sweat like women to the after Christmas sale at Dillards. His wife was putting the stuffed pork chops in the oven back in their twice mortgaged house in Buhler. A click beetle exploded shooting upwards towards a blue Kansas sky at the very instant the two figures arrived by his side The sun went behind a cloud, except there were no clouds. Damn, I died. |
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quatro Member
since 2003-04-29
Posts 392Galveston, Texas |
This was very interesting. A different persepctive on death that I had not thought about before. Thanks for sharing. quatro |
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