Saturday, September 1, 2007

PINK BLUES by pops


HEY, this is about Crashie's summer of 14, after a bit of trouble and having to bolt New Jersey. I was living in the White Sled Motel Bunkhouse in Lake Placid New York cuz Kevin had torched Raccoon Lodge while trying to thaw the pipes so I picked him up at a diner in Kingston with the stipulation he could only bring what he could carry between his mother's and my vehicle. He stretched it a bit pushing another bag on a skateboard. We lived the transient life for about a month then rented "the dump house" a charming cottage on a mountain brook adjacent to the town of Keene dump and sandpit. I was doing a whole house renovation in the valley and John came in mighty handy and worked hard to pay off his debts. By summer I gave him some slack and he bycycled home by dusk unless otherwise arranged.

My old man boring life and TV less, he later confessed most nights he slipped out after hearing my snores, having found the town workers left the key to the pay loader in it he would roar around the pit at top speed enjoying himself until satiated. That is til his last night when he buried the gate with 20 scoops of gravel. (((YES, as Kerouac so aptly stated in Dr. SAX "Memory and dream are intermixed in this mad world.")))

That mean anything??

vann 8/28/07

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