Last Thursday I headed south to Virginia.
I was marrying Paige and Stephen.
In Richmond.
The bus ran at 70 through New Jersey.
It was a boring ride.
I hate Bruce.
I hate THE SOPRANOS.
I hate the Jersey Shore.
I fell asleep.
I woke up at the Delaware River.
I went back to sleep on the southern bank.
I-95 existed for ten miles in Delaware.
I skipped the rest stop.
The shitty pizza was $6.99
The bus crossed a bridge spanning the Susquehanna, the longest river on the East Coast.
The Latter-Day Saints performed their first rituals in its waters.
According to family legend I was related to Joseph Smith.
I never saw the resemblance.
But he was a handsome man.
Others including Mormons disagreed.
We were both New England born, but now I was entering the south.
Baltimore.
Home of Divine.
She was a slut.
We miss her so.
We passed the Salt Alps of Baltimore.
More sleep.
I rose from the dead in the South.
In Peterburg, VA.
In front of a rim shop.
I said nothing.
There was no one to say anything so close to midnight.
Only more rims.