by Anthony Kirchner
I had a dream the other night that every truck stop in Cincinnati doubled as a library. I gathered this by reading the palm leaves that passed over top of the open roofed bus my girlfriend and I were traveling in. All my favorite songs came through the bus's stereo, except, "Hey, Soul Sister" played every forth song or so. The bus rolled on for hours and in spite of the occasional twang of "Hey, Soul Sister" and having no clue of our destination, I had a remarkable fondness for the trip. I woke, convinced I had witnessed a vague allegory for my life. I hope the bus passes through Cincinnati.
Anthony Kirchner designs and sculpts lavish clay pigeons for a living; or so he wishes, as that would be more fulfilling than his current occupation of "Deli Clerk." He writes in his free time to amuse himself and hopefully others. A self published body of his works can be read here.