Country Village #214

May 22, 1998


I can hear the bagpipes in the distance rising to a climax and then descending into oblivion. I withdraw my hand from the curve of the phone knowing how quickly it takes for importance to vanish. In a faraway land there is two of us but these reservations have been cancelled, there is no room left. My fears are nothing more than reminders giving me the intensity that I need to make it, but at the end of the week, tonight, this polluted shelter sits empty with only one tenant visible. This forgotten heap is my answer. I can grasp what I have known since the beginning only for a short period of time before faith subsides and insecurities set in. I can do anything. To hell with complications and boundaries. A vast island with crystal blue waters and soft white sand lifts up her head and sends a smile my way. She is a friend indeed. To hell with limits. I cannot carry a weight heavier than myself. I am on the way upward because of rejection thrown back at me with the twist of a shoulder. I can laugh on my own. This is not about placing blame, seeking revenge, chasing a dream, or being alone. I can see beyond these city limits a different breed of species. There is nothing but memories in this shack. Take it in stride.


Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist