On getting into town 

Red River, New Mexico, Northern New Mexico Loop, 2016

I get into town at noon, perfect. I look for the nearest restaurant, a diner preferably. My backpack is teeny tiny, so I bring it in then calmly search for a plug in, sit down WOW THAT FEELS GOOD, slide my shoes halfway off just so the heels can breathe, trying not to stink up the joint, order a hamburger, again, because it’s what’s on the menu in every town. 

Curious patrons whip their sideways glances, but then I order a few beers and everyone calms down. This leads to talking to the locals, and an invite to the neighborhood saloon which is probably not a good idea but what the hell. I always leave before it gets too wild because I’m exhausted and want to get a cheap room at the dive motel, lay on cool cotton bedsheets in air conditioning, eat, and watch bad tv. But then I get to talking to a fella and he asks what do I think about when I walk? But, to his dismay, it’s just a simple answer: rockrootrockroot. 

3 thoughts on “On getting into town 

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