myself. Splitting the whole
of me into halves. Pushing
myself beyond OCD and panic
attacks, all the way to the realm
of probable schizophrenia.
I’m not two people. Only one,
uncertain. One, scared of the gray
space of tomorrow. But a lot more
scared of being stuck in yesterday.
WE ROLL INTO BISHOP
A small California town also reaching
desperately for the future. Maybe
this is where I should move.
Trey decides to stop at Schat’s
Bakkerÿ. This place is famous. Can’t go
through Bishop and not stop here.
Famous? Never heard of it. But,
“I guess I could eat.” And I could
definitely pee. Not a lot of places
to stop along 395. If nothing else,
almost six hours since leaving our
overnight layover in Indio, it feels
great to stretch my legs. We go inside,
order sandwiches, and by the time
I get back from the bathroom,
Trey has collected them and stands
talking to a couple of locals. He sees
me, excuses himself to join me.
Those guys just got in from Reno.
Guess it’s snowing pretty good up