by
Marlin Eller
The sun really comes out in Montana. It's just
downright warm walking along the road there. The asphalt becomes a soft black
sponge trying to soak up my hiking boots that plod slowly along it. Step, Step,
Plod. It's so hot that I don't really want to walk, but if you just stand there
then they think you're lazy and they won't pick you up so I keep walking.
What's that off to the side of the road? No, not
that Juicyfruit wrapper or the unidentifiable automobile part, but that little
dirty brown pile ahead, Oh, a dead sparrow. Plod, step, plod, step, and the
sparrow passes slowly by on the right. I wonder who ran him down. Poor thing,
cut down in the prime of youth. Probably playing chicken with a car and neither
one would swerve, a macho game, played to the ultimate end.
No, sparrows aren't macho. Sparrows are mellow
except in the presence of French fries. Sparrows are peaceful. He wasn't
playing chicken, he just wanted to get to the other side when, BAMO!!
Hey, there's a car. Far out! Pick up the step
and look lively. Get turned around here and let them see your pretty face and
that limber thumb, that thumb that has carried you over the country, the envy
of Little Jack Horner. Yes, now work up that alert smile. Hot shit it's a van!
Yeah, a VW microbus. They never pass you up. There, I can make out the head of
a driver. Oh good, a long hair, a freak. That's what I need, a good trip for
body and soul! All right, he sees me now. That's it, come on! Pull over, you
fucker! What's wrong with you, man? I mean, where's your head at? Look at my
hair. Look at my pack. I'm a fellow freak, you know, peace, love, flowers! You
fuckin' Bastard! FUCK! SHIT! FUCK...
To hell with this walking bullshit! I'm never
gonna get a ride out of this place. So take off the pack and rest a bit.
Nobody's going to stop for me anyhow so I might as well put on my hat and
shades and try to beat some of this heat. You know, I'll probably burn my arms
and legs today. Maybe get a nice tan and look like that wheat. I can just sit
here in the gravel and take in the sun and the land.
Would you look at those colors! Browns and
yellows and browns. The summer colors. The warm colors. The color of my skin,
my summer skin. Brown like that sparrow over there, the one I'd thought I'd
passed. Well, old friend, here I lie on the roadside. I'll probably still be
lying here tomorrow.
You know, kid, you're probably better off that
way, knocked down by some nameless car. Hit and run. Totally impersonal,
"Oh Hank, you hit a sparrow. Poor thing." That's the trouble with the
country these days. It's too impersonal. Nobody cares about anybody anymore.
"Got to get on to the next town, Maude. No time to stop for some
sparrow."
That's right, not time to stop. We can't stop to
pick up some hippie freak. If we pick one up, next thing you know we'll have to
pick up all of them. You just might feel obligated to up and take care of your
brother, and that would slow you down.
You know something, that's why this country is
so screwed up. They're all in such a hurry that they don't stop to look at the
wheat and the earth and their bodies. They don't stop to think that we're all
the same thing, the same color, the same chemicals. We're the same as you, kid.
The guy that killed you killed a part of me and a part of himself. You know,
I'll bet it was a goddamn freak in a VW microbus that did you in!
There was a time a few years back when long
hairs all stuck together. That van wouldn't have cruised by ten years ago. Hell
no! You see a brother beside the road, you stop and pick him up. You don't give
no damn if it slows you up a bit. You aren't in a hurry to get anywhere. Your
brother is more of the life force. Bring him into the flock, celebrate, have a
party. But nowadays, hell, a microbus sails right on by. BAMO! Knocking sparrows
out of the sky. "Oh wow, man, you hit a sparrow. Bummer!" Yeah, I'll
bet freaks kill as much of the life force these days as normal people do. The
whole country went weird a few years back.
That car off in the distance. It'll get me as
surely as you were got. They'll sail on by and leave me to die along the
roadside. Oh God, a fucking Buick! You see what I mean. I'll never get a ride
out of this hole, but then, I don't care. I'm in no hurry. There's no place I
have to be. If I die here along side the road, so be it. I die in full view of
the sun and the wheat and the brown earth. I'm not going to join the rat race.
I'm going to lie here with my sparrow friend and we'll just watch the world
rush past us like that Buick. Good Lord, it's stopping! I didn't think Buicks
even had brakes installed in them. Well, I'll be damned!
"Uh... Are looking for a ride or
something?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, man, I'm trying to get to
Seattle."
"Must be your lucky day, that's where I'm
headed. Hope you're not in any big hurry."
So I stuff my pack in the back seat and hop into
that big beautiful Buick and look back at that poor dead sparrow as we pull
slowly away from him.
Well old friend, I guess today isn't my day to
lie with you. Today I will live and see what I can contribute to the life
force. But don't worry, I'll be back someday. Someday I too will get hit trying
to get to the other side. Then we'll lie in the sun beside the road together,
but don't hold your breath. I'm not really in any hurry.