We’re sitting outside, having our early morning coffee. Our hideaway is on State and Main. From inside, we’re looking out. Beyond the town’s embrace, just past some well-tended hemp fields, we can still see and appreciate the ghostly “Fog pockets”; as they’re desperately trying to conceal themselves from the morning sun. They struggle to hide within the crevices the hills provide. There’s only one switch-back road. It’s a trucker’s secret. It allows for safe passage, making their way here, from somewhere way over there.

What if, while relaxing, drinking our morning brew, and shooting the s**t, we notice a truck careening down the hill; and it’s going way too fast? The driver’s aggressively blowing his horn. He’s still a good mile away, but he can’t go unnoticed by us, anyway.

However, others have noticed nothing unusual at all. Remember, ours is a small town and everyone else is just going about their daily business. That you and I are older now gives reason to take notice of the minor changes that nature, or rather life itself, gives to us; it’s obligatory.

Concerned. We don’t know if the driver will get his brakes back or run off the road. End up in a gully! Maybe go off a cliff. Or worse, what if he comes barreling through town? What damage or carnage can he inflict? Who knows? All we know is that we’re scared; other than that we don’t Jack-s**t!

And neither do you! I control the narrative, but that means nothing anymore, as most people don’t even know how to read. Nor are they inclined to learn. Young people today, all they know how to do is trim their thumbnails. Prove me wrong! Another privilege of getting older. We’ve earned the right to behave like two cantankerous old coots, haven’t we?

As a child, I remember when my father sat cross-legged on the dirt in the middle of the only town intersection, w/ a blinking street signal. I sat on his lap. He claimed we were sitting in the exact middle of the Continental United States. He said, “My bottom was sooooo big — it covered all four corners of the country.” Only to go on and tickle me until I begged for mercy. Trying not to beg, I went as long as possible. I never wanted him to stop. I miss him. Anyway, where was I? Where am I going? I’ve lost my brakes.

In some places, things change too much and too soon. Ours wasn’t one of those places; we lived and loved in our peaceful little town. Change was natural and inevitable, but metered; by whom, or what, I don’t have a clue.

So we need to warn people! And get the children out of the street. Let the shopkeepers know there’s a truck careening out of control. Coffee time is over.

That truck, — well, it’s your (F***’N BLANK). I think I may have seen him, her, it, them… before. Look! He’s trying to blend in with the ghosts on the hillside. Yeah, that’s not working for them. Even worse, it’s not working for you and me. Come join us for coffee; bring a friend! See what’s coming for yourselves.

F.Y.I.

There’s a rock w/ a dial on it, — it’s in the Berkshires. Located where New York, Massachusetts, and Connecticut border—I’ve sat on that rock. Maybe you should too; it’ll cleanse your chakras. 

You may not know WTF is wrong with you, let alone what you need to do, to find out about your “Self”’ but at least you’ll come away knowing that there’s room for acknowledgement, and that’s the first step! It’s hard to see yourself when your mirror’s broken into a thousand pieces of charred glass. 

To reconstitute your soul is akin to putting together those pieces of glass; don’t be surprised to find a few pieces have gone missing. Step back, squint your eyes. What you’ll see is a mosaic. The image that surfaces will be better, more complete than before you let and led others to destroy your “Self”.

 Take solace, not umbrage in the fact these are or soon will be gone. And remember, I’m an old man, prone to ramble. I’ve earned that right! Hopefully, one day, you too will have your rights restored, you know, the ones you just recently gave away.