Memory as landscape...in 1998 when I worked for the H.C. P. Told me to mind my place. He didn't like the minimum wage help acting as his equal. He was making in the Qua as a big shot. His ego couldn't handle it. The H.C. Closed two days ago. Gone. Into memory. A shuttered hole. He's gone I'm still here...in the aesthetic of the woods...the pay phone of what was once Grand Union gone. I remember Crazy Yeti on that phone and having his girlfriend so pisssed off. It too is gone along with The Grand Union. The train station is gone privatized into a restaurant for the well to do. I spent many a moment in there in altered state of consciousness. But the landscape lives on. It becomes the memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment