I wander America on a Harley Davidson motorcycle, sleep on couches and in fifty-dollar motel rooms, eat at Waffle House and Main Street cafes, and have conversations with people whose politics I might not agree with. These are our stories.
Laundry Day
I just thought it was a fun picture…
The Mineral Springs Motel
One of our two waitresses complained that eating raw broccoli gives her gas so bad she can’t breath
The Road to Ripley
Russ was drafted
The Four Seasons Motel
Vincent is my neighbor two doors down. Forty-seven, untrimmed beard, divorced, four kids, three at home with the ex.
Grand Canyons
My worn and dusty shoe dangles
Above a billion years
Three thousand feet of history
Just beneath my sole
And Snow, Snow was Dead
There are a lot of ways to die in a peacetime army.
Lovely Rita
Kid ran his car up the ass of a Firebird. The old man couldn’t pay for it.
Lunchtime Lingerie
The job paid $1.60 an hour. My co-workers were mostly on work release from the state priso
The Soft Smell of Citrus
The Lonely Planet Guide warned us that Morocco was dangerous
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