On occasion of … a long-ago roadtrip with my now-departed friend, Anthony …
“Thanks-fuckin-giving Road Trip. 1987. I made Anthony stop at the MacDonald’s in Winslow, no, Gallup. I had wanted to hold out to Winslow (you know, the song, “sittin’ onna corner, Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight ta see…”). But I was too fuckin’ hungry. And burgers were 2 fer 89¢. After brite suns inna mornin’: Chaco Canyon stoned. Cold an’ bikin’. Middle’uh th’fuckin’ winter. An’ pickin’ up Roger. Indian-rodeo-man-missin-a-bunch-a-fingers. Goin’ ta visit his mom inna reservation-Fort-Somethin’ hospital. Drivin’ inta th’ sun. I starin’ at his hooked noze an’ bullet-proof eyes. Anthony squished in between. Three Amurikans inna front-seat, a 1972 Too-rino wagon. (An’ then, me ridin’ shotgun screamin’ at the fuckin’ St-Joseph-town Power Plant lookin’ all-inna-world like New Jersey inna desert nite. Makin’ pictures as we fly by. I hate fuckin’ MacDonalds, I hate ’em…”