“This seemed reasonable — after giving in and looking at google maps, since I had forgotten to bring water — had hiked just under 5 miles, and now was making my way to a diner I reviewed a while ago and was parched and craving, ‘Fish, Grits & Eggs’ to celebrate getting lost a few times — that this was what I found —
coming up from the Genesse river trail through a mixed-use neighborhood International Paper Products next to cute houses with prefab forts and small above ground pools — next to a diaper & an incongruous patch of snow —
under the one knuckle — I hesitantly placed against it — the snow was cool — not cold — with the tactility of jello — A few minutes before I had followed a hidden partially paved trail announcing on a sigiled wooden pole — Red Falls —
Where? When? Am I?
Did I choose the correct path at the triune crossroads?
Was it before then? An old pattern — an ancient narrative — unrolling without my participation?
I couldn’t turn around”
“Once we passed thru the gates — an event of the past can not be undone”
“Arthur — the story goes — pulled the sword from the stone”
“In our tale, we passed before the eyes —
and set forth — without a plan — to points unknown — remember — It ends with summer snow besides an old diaper — it all depends on — fish & grits & eggs at the end”
Well it's the sort of weather that would exhaust a temporal lobe or two.