Thank you to Club Plum Literary Journal for including my story “Greyhound” in their current issue.
Like the character in the story, I logged many miles on buses, assuming I could afford the ticket, especially when it was too cold or wet to hitchhike. As much as I love Jack Kerouac, I always seemed to have less money than Sal Paradise.
The link below includes a soundtrack from Calpurnia, also entitled “Greyhound.” Very cool.
Grateful to the Remington Review for publishing my poem and including me with the fine authors in the current issue.
This poem links Hemingway’s influence on my writing and his polydactyl cats. And it recalls the polydactyl cats my sister raised in upstate New York. I often wonder if she unknowingly adopted one of Hemingway’s family.
Recalling the odd yellow clouds and rain in Nevada earlier on our road trip, this storm is equally unexpected and much scarier.
North of Flagstaff on Highway 89 we see signs of water shortage—no campfires allowed, no charcoal. Ominous clouds cling to mountain peaks, but we’re driving at a lower elevation across the high desert listening to The Beatles.
As soon as we hear the riffs for “Here Comes the Sun,” the rain spits then gushes. White knuckling the steering wheel, I pull off the road and park three times. I creep out between cells only to coast off again.
Having experienced many whiteouts from snow, this was my first water-out, and I hope my last. Fortunately the cars on the two-lane highway drive slowly and many stop on the shoulder near us. No accidents as far as we know.
Wish we could drag the rain home to California to help quench the horrible fires.