Originally published in Prairie Fire Vol. 36, No. 1.
1 my blood has blessed these sidewalks longer than the waters of Misipawistik have washed my village and this story began from that first view of city lights it was a buick circa 1958 tripping to the big city south on highway six gravel road barely wider than two car widths my dad traveled at night in a car full of sleeping children scattered on the back seat but not me i was awake full of excitement watching my father driving never over 60 the car sliding side to side on loose stones slowing at passing trucks and cars dust out field of vision obscured my dad gently blowing against the windshield trying to clear his line of sight exhaling softly at reaching the asphalt covered road just past gyp moosehorn appeared from out of the dark then ashern for a quick coffee and pee break didn’t flush then eriksdale to our left slowing down to glance at strange faces watching our strange faces lundar was just a blur never could pronounce grosse isle but even from there i could see the glow in the sky city lights barely able to contain my excitement eyes wide at the lights and traffic my dad’s hands gripping the steering wheel white knuckled driving block after block of quiet streets my head was a swivel unable to see or grasp it all tumbling out of the car at the Mac then warned not to wander off finally a restless sleep i had landed on the neon moon i was twelve all so new and yet it seemed so right
