We hung around town for a while. The streets were covered with red dust. I sat down by the car and painted bottle caps. Gunther kept a bag of paints in the glove box. He's a much better artist than me. He came back from his walk and said, 'Oh, look at you, with your folk art!'
Damn Gunther has a name for everything.
Then he said, 'Little bottle cap miniatures!'
I smiled up at him.
'May I have one?'
I gave him a little happy skull with a bone in its mouth. He cradled it in his palm, and carried it back to the car. We got back on the road and tried to get as far as we could before dark. I rolled a joint. I smoked and watched the land stretch out all around us.
Author
Picador |